


Too Close to Tell

by LostHopeful



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Allison Argent, Alive Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe- Stiles isn't pack (yet), Angst, F/M, Family, Hale Pack, Hurt, M/M, Nogitsune, POV Changes, POV Third Person, Pack of Alphas happened, Panic Attacks, Scott's a good bro, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, The Sheriff's name is Noah, Underage Drinking, more tags to come, stiles knows things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-07 05:28:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 155,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8785006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostHopeful/pseuds/LostHopeful
Summary: There wasn’t anything sudden or unexpected about what was happening. Perhaps that made it worse. The fact that she could feel it building up inside of her. The pressure constricting itself around her lungs like a snake around its prey. It was heavy and suffocating. She felt the pounding of her heart as it continued to pump blood through tubes that seemed to shrink with every beat. The echo of it filled her ears. Her surroundings, the walls, ceiling, and ground, seemed to fade into nonexistence...“Stiles…” It comes out barely above a whisper.(Or the one where Lydia has a dream that terrifies her and convinces the pack to find the "Stiles". )Sorry! The first few chapters I was still trying to figure out how to write the fic, so the pov changes inconsistently. I decided further in that I would stick  just to Stiles' pov. I hope you stick around to see if you like it.





	1. "Stiles"

There wasn’t anything sudden or unexpected about what was happening. Perhaps that made it worse. The fact that she could feel it building up inside of her. The pressure constricting itself around her lungs like a snake around its prey. It was heavy and suffocating. She felt the pounding of her heart as it continued to pump blood through tubes that seemed to shrink with every beat. The echo of it filled her ears. Her surroundings, the walls, ceiling, and ground, seemed to fade into nonexistence.

Everything hurt. Her chest, her lungs, her throat, her head. She was struggling to breathe. The panic had her sliding down onto the floor, right hand resting on her chest as she tried to calm herself. Her heart pounded against her ribcage, like a hammer against a plank of balsa wood. She could feel every pulse and beat in her body.

She was so scared, so alone. Her head, swarming in confusion, drowned her thoughts and her ability to function. Her vision sprouted spots, obscuring the unfamiliar area around her even further. Tears streamed down her face slowly.

It felt like she was there forever, forever struggling to breathe. She hadn’t heard the footsteps approaching her. She barely even registered someone there with her, but after a few minutes a voice started to come into focus. It was saying something.

Lydia shot up from her bed, panting as she struggled to regain her composure. It took her a moment to realize she could breathe. With each new breath of air that entered her lungs, Lydia relaxed further. Her surroundings slowly began to register to her senses. She was in her bed, tucked under her comforter. She felt safe, not alone or scared. Reality had come back to her.

“You’re safe Lyds, it’s alright. Just a bad dream.”

Jackson was by her side, his arms wrapping themselves around her shaken frame. Lydia tried to say something, anything but nothing comes out. She shakes her head and takes another breath before trying again.

“Stiles…” It comes out barely above a whisper.

There is a long pause before Jackson replies.

“What the heck is a Stiles?”

 

__________________

 

“I’m a Stiles!” Stiles threw his hands up as if it was obvious and leaned back against his seat in exasperation. If he had a nickle for every time someone asked that or questioned his name, he would be rich. The professor barely glanced up at him before continuing down the list of names of students that were supposed to be in his class.

Stiles shifted uneasily beneath the gaze of the class after his outburst and sunk lower in his seat. He picked up his pen and and flicked it back and forth between two of his fingers while he waited for the class to end.

It was his second semester in the transfer program at Beacon Hills Community College. He could have probably gotten into an actual four-year university, but he wanted to stay close to home. After everything that had happened in high school, Stiles was worried about his dad. Stiles had promised the older Stilinski that he wasn’t staying because of him but rather because it was cheaper to transfer, especially since an Associates Degree was the same whether he went to a community college or to a four-year university.

Stiles hurried out of the building when class ended. He didn’t want to stick around any longer than he had to after his embarrassing outburst. It happened every year, the name thing. Despite this, he still had a tendency to loudly voice his emotions on the subject.

He shifted the bag on his shoulder to a more comfortable position as he walked past other students and began heading toward the library. He had almost two hours until his next class and couldn’t think of a better way to spend it than filling his brain with useless knowledge.

The library was Stiles’ thinking place. It was quiet and had a few more secluded areas he could camp out at than anywhere else he knew of. He wandered through a few aisles, gathering some reading material before settling in his favorite corner by a far window. The wood table and coupled chairs that lay waiting in the secluded space was a welcoming sight for Stiles.

The setup was hidden by unlabeled book shelves. Stiles figured they were books no one ever checked out or books that fell between fiction and nonfiction and into the category he liked to call “too close to tell”. The first time he had sat there he had browsed through the collection of estranged books.

To resist the urge to highlight all over the pages of the books, Stiles pulled out a random notebook and pen from his backpack. The cap of the pen sat between his lips as his eyes scanned the pages of information. It wasn’t long before Stiles forgot about the earlier incident and became lost among the words printed on the page.

Stiles rubbed his eyes, his body moving on autopilot, forcing his concentration to break. He yawned and stretched back in his chair. He glanced out of the nearby window, watching the nearby tree sway with the wind, before some commotion in the library caught his attention.

A red hair girl, followed by two good looking guys and a pretty brunette, was scanning the aisles of books. She angrily snapped at one of the guys before lowering her voice again.

Stiles scrunched his eyebrows together. He watched as she yanked books from the shelves, putting back the ones she didn’t want and tossing the ones she did to the angry looking guy.

Stiles doesn’t know why he continued to watch them, but he did. He watched the short haired brunette look around with disinterest. Her eyes skipped right over him, making him feel even more invisible to the world than usual.

He watched the red head turn on her heels and point her finger in the angry one’s face before realizing her outburst and straightening out her outfit. Stiles wanted to laugh. For no reason really other than seeing the guy’s expression soften and grow quiet.

Stiles decided then and there that the redhead was a queen in her own right. She had a commanding and demanding presence and he knew he wasn’t the only one that felt it.

Stiles glanced down at his watch habitually and cursed. He was going to be late to class. Shoving his things into his bag, Stiles scooped up the books he had laid out on the table and dropped them on the return rack on his way out.

Any thought of the small group in the library left his head as he rushed down the path to the desired building and into the classroom.

 

__________________

 

Lydia paced the room while trying her best to keep her voice down.

“It’s called supernatural detection. Like being able to seek out and find other supernatural beings.” Lydia quipped, then quieter she added; “That or it means he is going to die.”

The library was virtually empty now. They had set up at a small table in the corner of the library after the kid sitting there had nearly tripped his way out of the library.

“So, Stiles is definitely a person?” Scott asked and Lydia nodded. They had searched the bestiary and numerous other sources for mythical creatures and lore and had come up empty on the creature front for anything about a “Stiles”. Lydia had however found something that interested her personally.

She had skimmed through a book on Banshees, trying getting the general gist of what her dreams could mean. Sadly, there wasn’t anything specific about dreams.

“It was just a dream, Lydia.” Jackson was flipping the pages of one of the many books she had pulled off the shelf. She knew he wasn’t actually reading the words on the pages, rather, he was looking for pictures, and it only added to her already unstable psyche.

She huffed in irritation. “It wasn’t just a dream. I know what I saw and felt wasn’t my dream, it wasn’t happening to me. It was happening to someone else. It was happening to this- this Stiles.”

Lydia was still unsure of what her Banshee abilities actually consisted of and entailed outside of her scream and finding dead bodies, but she was certain of one thing. They needed to find Stiles.

“We need to help him. I can feel it.”

She directed her last comment toward the phone on the table. She waited patiently for the person on the other end to say something. Scott, Jackson, and Malia waited in silence.

“Fine.” Came the response, voice gruff. “If you think it’s what we need to do, then I trust you, Lydia. Careful though. We don’t know what this Stiles is or if he is friendly.”

Lydia sighed in relief.

“Thank you, Derek. We’ll be careful, I promise.”

Derek grunted before hanging up.

It was Scott who broke the silence.

“So how do we find him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Great, at this rate we will find him when he is already buried six feet under the ground.”

“Leave Lydia alone, Jackson.”

“Bite me, McCall.”

“Guys, shut up. Lydia, what do we do? Do you know what he looks like?” Malia pushed herself off the bookshelf she was leaning against and glared at her pack-mates before turning to Lydia.

Lydia bit her lip. Her eyebrows scrunched closer together as she tried to remember her dream. Her lips pursed upward before she answered.

“No. I only remember the panic attack and the inability to breathe.”

Lydia’s eyes seemed to gloss over as she remembered the fear and pain of the experience. It had felt so real, like it had been happening to her. In a way, it had.

“I can talk to Deaton later today and see if he has any ideas as to what we can do to find this person.” Scott threw the idea out there and received small nods of agreement.

“So we wait and see what Deaton has to say. Unless we come up with a better plan, we wait. See if he comes to us.” Malia looked from one member to another. Another round of nods of agreement and the group cleared off the table before leaving the library.

As they were leaving Lydia’s attention gravitated back to the table hidden in the corner of the library. Her eyes fixed on one of the chairs.

“Lydia, you coming?”

“Y-yeah.”

She gave the corner one last look before following her group out of the library and across the courtyard.

 

__________________

 

Stiles was just waiting for the day to get worse. He had an outburst about his name, been late to class, and drafted onto the lacrosse team.

Stiles had played lacrosse in high school. It had taken him years of practice to earn a proper place playing on the team back then, but he had done it. Danny, an old classmate and teammate, had dragged him to the practice/tryouts spouting nonsense about not having enough players.

When they arrived at the practice Stiles had nearly tackled Danny. There had been an uncomfortable amount of people trying out for the team. Danny had just given him a small smile and shrug.

“Since you are here… You might as well just stick around for a bit.”

Danny had then abandoned Stiles to don his goalie padding and uniform.

Against his better instincts, Stiles stayed. He had no illusions of him actually making the team and becoming part of it, but he had honestly missed the sport. It had helped get him through high school. His dad had gone to every one of his games, even the ones where he sat on the bench the whole time.

So he stayed. He did the warm ups with the other, probably much more fit, candidates. He surprised himself when he was able to keep up with most of them. Unlike them however, he opted to keep his shirt on throughout the process.

Another surprise, a fact Danny had forgotten to mention, was that Robert Finstock, their coach in high school, was coaching the college team.

“Stilinski!”

“Yes, Coach?”

“Put your back into it, kid! This isn’t high school anymore. You don’t get off the bench unless you have something to offer the team. Now show me some effort!”

“Yes, Coach.” Stiles dragged himself to the back of the line. It certainly felt like highschool again.

“Hey.”

Stiles looked up from the ground to meet the eyes of the person who had spoken to him. The guy in front of him looked oddly familiar but it took Stiles a moment to place it. The guy standing in front of him had been a member of the group who had temporarily caught his interest in the library. He had been with the angry looking guy and the two girls.

“You aren’t that bad. Coach is just a hardass. Just keep practicing and maybe throw the ball a little harder.”

“Thanks.”

Stiles didn’t want to correct the guy who had just tried to give him encouragement, he didn’t want to tell him that he knew he wasn’t going to make the team, that he was just there because of Danny. So Stiles gave him a small smile of gratitude.

“No problem. My name is Scott by the way. Scott McCall.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Scott. The name is-”

“Hurry it up ladies! This is not a social gathering.”

Scott gave Stiles a small smile before turning back to the net. Stiles watched as Scott jogged toward the white ball on the ground, scooped it up, and swung the lacrosse stick with such a forced that the ball spun into the net, bypassing the goalie, Danny.

Stiles watched in awe. Scott was a skilled player. Suddenly feeling subconscious about his own skill, Stiles rolled his shoulders and took a couple deep breathes before he jogged toward the white ball on the ground to take his shot.

“Alright. Ladies. Listen up. I call your name, you stay. I don’t say your name, you get the hell off my field. Maybe try again next Spring. Alright. Greenberg, Mahealani, Lahey, Whittemore, McCall..” The list seemed to go on forever. Despite having no preconceived thought of being on the team, Stiles’ heart sank every time a name was called and wasn’t his own. He was getting ready to grab his bag and head out when Coach’s voice fell heavy on his ears.

“And- Stilinski. The rest of you get out of here. It’s not that you weren’t good, it was that they were better. You want a shot at this team, you get better.”

Stiles lifted his head in surprise, a smile slowly growing on his face.

“Don’t give me that look, Stilinski. I expect great things from you.”

A hand landed on his shoulder blade and Stiles turned to see Scott’s smiling face.

“Congrats, man.”

“You too. You play really well.”

Scott slid his hand against the back of his neck in a subconscious gesture of a humble quality.

“You aren’t too bad yourself.”

Stiles laughed.

“Dude, you suck at lying.”

Stiles liked Scott. He didn’t know him very well, but he seemed like a decent guy.

“Nah, come on. You aren’t that bad. Otherwise Coach wouldn’t have called your name.”

Stiles was about to respond when someone called Scott’s name.

“Scott. Let’s go. We have somewhere to be.”

Stiles looked over Scott’s shoulder to see the angry guy from the library. So he had been at the practice too.

“Look, I have to go, but it was nice to meet you, Stilinski.”

“Stiles.”

“What?”

“My name. It’s Stiles. It was nice to meet you too. I guess I’ll be seeing you around, Scott.”

Stiles pretended not to notice Scott’s look of confusion and shock when Stiles had said his name. Instead he rushed a goodbye and picked up his bag, leaving Scott standing in the field with the angry-looking guy yelling his name.

He yelled his good-byes and promises of retribution at Danny over his shoulder before dragging his sore body to the parking lot. He hadn’t done this much exercise since senior year. He inwardly wished his younger, past self would have kept up with the workouts during the summer and fall.

Stiles threw his bag into the back of his jeep and turned the key, willing the engine to start. It did, and he sang it praises. Eventually he would have to exchange the duct tape holding the beast together for some actually parts, but for now it would have to do.

 

__________________

 

Stiles pulled his jeep into the driveway of his house and turned the engine off. The time on his phone read four o’clock. He exited his vehicle and made his way toward the front door. His dad’s cruiser was nowhere to be seen. Stiles had the house to himself, again. On normal days Stiles was gone before his dad even got up and home and asleep before the Sheriff got off. Some days Stiles would go the whole day without seeing his dad despite living in the same house. He was hoping it wasn’t one of those days. He wanted to tell his dad about lacrosse.

His mind swarmed with a million thoughts before he even reached the front door. He decided that in a couple of hours he would make some veggie burgers and sweet potato fries for dinner, but right now all he wanted to do was curl up in his bed and do random research on his computer.

He entered the living room, letting the front door fall shut behind him, and made his way up the stairs and to his room. The familiarity of it made his body relax instantly. He threw his bag on the floor and belly flopped onto his bed. He tucked his arms around his pillow and pulled it closer to his face.

Stiles awoke with a start. He clenched at his shirt and consciously steadied his breath, telling himself to take slow breaths. He glanced over at the clock. He had only been home for an hour. He closed his eyes for a few moments longer before it was clear he would get no more sleep.

He pulled himself up off his bed and into the bathroom to wash his face. It had been a while since he had woken up without fear laced in his subconscious. Why he expected this nap to be any different he didn’t know. He woke himself up with the cold water before heading down stairs and to the kitchen. His dad would be home soon and he wanted to have dinner ready for him.

He peeled the potatoes and began heating a skillet of oil on the stove. He sliced the potatoes into small stips. When the oil was ready he dropped a few into the skillet and watched as the oil bubbled and popped, spitting occasionally in his direction. Stiles waited nearby with metal tongs at the ready. He placed the done fries on a plate with a paper towel to soak up the excess oil. He started the burgers shortly after.

Stiles barely heard his phone ringing.

“Yellow.” Stiles answered.

“Hey kid, I’m running a bit late. Might be here for another hour or so. You go ahead and eat without me. Okay?”

Stiles’ heart sank at the idea of eating along for another night but didn’t mention it to his dad. The Sheriff already had enough on his plate as it was.

“Yeah, no problem. I’ll leave you some food in the microwave or something.”

“Don’t go out of your way for me, Stiles.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Stiles smiled as he ended the call then cussed as he remembered the food. He burned his finger on the skillet and cursed again. Today was just not his day.

He managed to not burn the food and wrapped a plate for his dad. He left it in the microwave and wrote a little note pointing it out. He ate his food in silence and then rushed upstairs to take a shower before sleep.

When Stiles finally crawled into bed he lay staring up at the ceiling and reflecting on his day. He had made a fool of himself in class, he had weirded a potential friend out with his name, he had burned his hand. Stiles covered his eyes with his hand and let out some hysterical laughter. He was such a mess. He didn’t even know if he would be able to sleep tonight. His ADHD was driving him crazy. Stiles contemplated taking another Adderall but doubted it would actually help him sleep.

Stiles leaned over to the nightstand and picked up his keychain. He removed a single key from the ring and placed the rest of it back on the night stand. He lay with the lights off, eyes closed, and key in hand. He turned the key over in his hand, memorizing each bend and curve as he tried to calm his mind. If he could get himself to focus on one thing long enough then maybe he could get some sleep.


	2. Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You have a pack full of self-esteem deprived werewolf adolescents, a banshee dreaming of impending doom, and a mystery teenager we know nothing about.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is Scott POV heavy with a little Derek POV. Probably one of the only times it will be like this. 
> 
> I will try to update weekly, if for some strange reason that's not possible it'll be every two weeks. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy :)

Scott had almost chased after Stiles. He had probably freaked out Stiles with his surprised expression. Stiles probably thought he was a creep now and chasing after him would only enforce the thought. Scott had just been so surprised. Instead, he ran to meet up with Jackson. 

“We were supposed to meet with Lydia twenty minutes ago. She is going to be so pissed at-”

“I found him.”

“Us- Wait. What?”

“Stiles. I found him.”

Jackson glanced over to where the skinny guy with brown ruffled hair, Scott had been talking to, was jogging away. 

“Him? That’s a Stiles?”

Scott nodded enthusiastically. He had found Stiles, although it had been a total accident. He still wanted to call and talk to Deaton, more about Lydia’s dream now than how to find Stiles. He would call Deaton after he told Lydia and the pack. 

Scott and Jackson hurried to where they were supposed to meet Lydia. The news of finding Stiles weighing happily at the tip of their tongues.

Scott knew this entire thing had taken it’s toll on Lydia. She had a dream about someone in danger. If anything happened to Stiles, Scott was sure it would break Lydia, mostly because he knew it would definitely break him. 

The coffee shop was small and local which made it a great meeting place. Lydia was playing disinterestedly with the lid of her coffee cup while staring out the window. She didn’t bother to turn toward the door when Scott and Jackson sped in. 

“You’re late.” She mumbled quietly. 

“Sorry.” 

Jackson gave her a small kiss on the cheek while Scott spewed apologies. 

“Really sorry, Lydia. Practice ran late. Anyway, that doesn’t matter. We-”

“We found him.” Jackson smirked when Scott shot him a glare.

Lydia lifted her head off her hand and turned toward the boys. 

“You found Stiles?” 

“Yeah. He was at lacrosse practice- we made it to the team by the way- and we ran into him.” 

Scott had the urge to cover Jackson’s mouth just to get him to shut up. He would consider punching him to get the same outcome. First off, Scott had found him, not Jackson. Who found him didn’t matter to Lydia, however.

Lydia’s eyes seemed to glow with interest, breathing in Jackson’s every word. 

“Did you talk to him?” 

Jackson looked over to Scott and raised his eyebrows, assumingly to let Scott know he could talk now. 

“Barely. We talked a bit about lacrosse and then he left. I didn’t know his name until the end of the conversation.” 

“So what next?” Jackson asked after a few moments of silence from Lydia.

“I don’t know. I guess we talk to Derek.” 

They decided not to stick around the coffee shop. Instead they agreed to tell Derek in person and talk with the pack about a game plan. Lydia tossed her mostly untouched coffee in the garbage on their way out. She rode with Jackson, Scott riding his bike behind them. They made it to the loft just as Malia and Peter were pulling in. 

“How’d it do?” Scott asked as they all fell into step with each other. He knew Derek had given the deadly duo a small assignment involving a couple Betas encroaching on the Hale territory. 

“Fine.” Peter has an air of annoyance around him. 

“I wouldn’t have guessed.” Scott dryly replied. 

“He is just pouting because he didn’t get to maim anyone.”

“I’m not pouting.” 

“Could have fooled me.”

Scott couldn’t help but smile at the bickering between father and daughter. He was glad to hear that Peter didn’t get to maim or kill anyone. They didn’t need Peter spiralling back into his homicidal state. 

Malia then turned to Scott. 

“How’d everything go with you? How was lacrosse?”

“It was good. Made the team. We also found Stiles.”

“You found him?” Malia couldn’t suppress the surprise that filled her voice.

“We’ll tell you more about it inside.”

Jackson took two steps at a time as the group made their way up to the loft. Scott following closely behind. If he let Jackson get there first he would surely take credit for finding Stiles. Jackson pulled the door open and Scott slid into the room before him.

Isaac, Boyd, and Erica were all spread about the loft. Derek was nowhere in sight. 

“Derek?” Scott called out.

Derek appeared at the top of the spiral staircase, eyebrows raised. 

“We found Stiles.” Jackson and Scott said in unison. Jackson gave Scott a lopsided smirk earning himself a glare from Scott.

Derek made his way down the stairs to properly greet the pack. 

“So he is a real person and Lydia isn’t going crazy?” Erica played lazily with her nails, running a nail file against the ones she found unsatisfactory, ignoring the looks that were shot at her. “Just saying what we were all thinking at one point or another.” She added as an afterthought. 

Derek growled and Erica raised her hands in surrender. Derek turned his attention back to Scott. He wouldn’t tell anyone, but he had doubted their ability to find someone with only a name and a dream to go off of.  

“Did you talk to him?”

“About Lydia’s dream? No. We talked about lacrosse.”

“What would we have said? Hey, my girlfriend had a dream about you and she thinks you’re about to die?” 

“Is he a werewolf?” 

Scott turned toward Isaac and scrunched his eyebrows in thought. “No, he’s not. He didn’t smell like it. Mostly just like the earth, stress, anxiety, and something else I didn’t quite recognize.”

“So he’s human?” 

“I think so.”

“Ew.” Erica’s face scrunched in displeasure.

“You know you were human once, right?” Isaac watched Erica squirm under the comment. Erica recovered quickly, rolled her eyes and shrugged, turning her focus back to her nails. 

“Someone tell me why we care what happens to a random human?” Jackson raised his eyebrows, daring someone to give him a good reason why he should care. 

“Because I dreamt about him.” Lydia was quiet, drawing the pack’s attention to her. “It has to mean something. The dream. I had to have heard his name for a reason. It has to mean something.” 

The room fell silent. 

“So what do we do, nephew?” 

Derek’s eyes fell on the speaker. Peter had been quiet until now. 

The pack looked between Derek and Peter before finally settling their eyes onto Derek.

“I guess we bring him in and talk to him.”

“What, like kidnap him?” 

“Whatever it takes.” 

“Can I make a suggestion?” Scott raised his hand, slightly, as if he were in a classroom waiting for his turn to speak. Derek gave him a little nod. 

“What if we don’t say anything to him- hear me out.” Scott continued on, raising his hands up , palms facing away from his body. “What if we don’t tell him about any of this. Why do we have to drag him into the supernatural? Why don’t we just try to keep him safe while we figure out what Lydia’s dream actually means?”

“Got a little crush now, McCall?”

“Shut up, Jackson. It’s not like that. I just think we should try to avoid telling the world about the supernatural.” 

“I just think-”

“Because that’s a good idea.”

Scott clenched and unclenched his fists. He really wanted to punch Jackson right now. Maybe Coach would pair the two of them together at practice and maybe his hand will slip.

 

* * *

 

 

Derek was having a good day. A good week, actually.  No one had been chased, kidnapped, or killed. Sure there was the possibility of a complete stranger dying, but his pack was safe. 

So when Scott and Jackson sped into the loft, clearly battling one another for first, of whatever they were doing, Derek braced himself for whatever was about to come. 

He listened as Jackson and Scott talked, occasionally throwing out his own opinions, and scolded Erica. It was when Scott suggested that they didn’t confront the human, a thought that hadn’t even crossed his mind as a possibility, that Derek knew his good week was over. 

The room erupted into chaos, everyone trying to voice their opinion at once. Derek leaned himself against the wall, listening to each argument and thought. Boyd brought up the point that it would be harder to protect someone who didn’t know they needed to be protected in the first place. Erica didn’t think it was fair that Stiles would get to remain oblivious while they saved him from impending doom. Isaac seemed to agree with Scott, thinking it unfair to just drag Stiles into the world of supernatural with no warning and only the threat of death. Malia was leaning to Jackson’s side, agreeing it would be easier to protect Stiles if he knew. 

Peter and Lydia were silent. Peter rubbing his forehead as if trying to coax away a headache and Lydia with her lips pursed in her own thought. Sometimes Derek thought she lived in her own little world.

The argueing was beginning to grate on his nerves, they had stopped coming up with actual reasons. He rubbed his forehead before pushing himself off the wall and focusing on his pack.

“Alright. Enough!” Everyone fell silent at Derek’s command. 

“We don’t know how much time we have, or if his life is in any actual danger,” He gave Lydia an apologetic look. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, he did, but there was a possibility it wasn’t as serious as they thought. It had only sounded like a panic attack to Derek. “but we need to be diligent. We will go with Scott’s idea for now. Befriend him and protect him that way. If anything happens, then we can reevaluate the situation at a later date. I don’t want to accidentally introduce someone to the supernatural that doesn’t need to be there. Good?”

Derek glanced around the room, observing as everyone nodded their agreement. Derek himself nodded before turning to Peter. 

“A word, please.” 

Peter followed Derek up the spiral stairs. It wasn’t out of hearing reach for werewolf senses but he was hoping his pack had the decency to respect his privacy. 

“What do you think?” 

Derek had just begun trusting Peter again. After what happened to Laura, he didn’t think he could. However, Peter had proved himself valuable time and time again. Derek had watched him slowly grow closer with his own daughter and packmate, Malia. It had been a bumpy start but Peter had continued to try and prove to Malia he was worth getting to know. As far as he knew Malia never called Peter “dad”, that title seemed to be reserved for her adoptive human father, but Peter didn’t hold it against her. 

Derek would have felt bad about the fact that Malia was born to Peter, a once very psychotic power hungry werewolf, and the Desert Wolf, an equally dangerous killer, if it wasn’t for the fact that it all had made Malia an incredibly strong and dangerous asset to the pack. 

So here Derek was, conferring with Peter over recent events because he trusted him. That wasn’t to say Peter didn’t still annoy him, freak him out, or piss him off. It just meant he wasn’t expecting Peter to turn around and plant a knife in his back anytime soon.

“You want my honest opinion?”

“Yes.” Derek nodded his head down once.

Peter watched Derek for a moment, who in response raised his eyebrows in question. 

“I think not telling him is a mistake. What if he goes and gets himself killed? What if he breathes wrong and ends up choking on his own tongue? Here’s another thing, why should we care?”

Peter crossed his arms and shook his head before continuing. 

“You are putting a lot of faith into those kids down there.”

“One of those kids is the reason we’re doing this in the first place. The pack is family, and we put our faith and trust into family.” 

“Point taken.” 

There was a moment of silence before Derek found the courage to ask Peter another question. 

“What do you think he is?”

“Well we know he isn’t a werewolf. Maybe he is another banshee?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then what do you think, Derek?” Peter asked in exasperation. 

“I was asking you for a reason, you know. Not because I like listening to you talk.”

“That hurt, nephew. Really hurt. I have a silky, sultry voice. I grace you with it and you insult me.” 

Derek scoffed. Peter’s voice fell into a more serious tone.

“Does it worry you that you don’t know what you are up against?” 

“It worries me that there is a possible human involved.”

“Ah. When it comes to humans, we do have a rough streak painting our history red.”

Derek flinched inwardly. 

“Maybe it’s time to break that streak.” Derek mumbled. 

“Tell me what you are thinking, Derek. Tell me what your wolf says.”

“Trust Lydia. Protect the human. Protect the pack.”

“Protect the human?”

Derek didn’t trust Peter’s tone.

“Peter.”

“You could bite him.”

“Peter.”

“It’s a serious option. Bite him, he turns, problem solved.”

“Or he dies during the transition. What if he is a banshee like you think? Then nothing happens and we are back to square one. We don’t know this kid. We don’t know who he is. Scott’s idea isn’t a bad one.”

“Just a risky one.”

Derek sighed. “No matter what we do, there is a risk. I don’t think freaking the kid out is the best plan.” 

“At least it’s somewhat entertaining.” 

Derek glared at Peter.

“Oh come on, Derek. You don’t think it would be funny? Not even a little bit?”

Derek continued to glare. 

“Fine. Suit yourself. Not much I can do to help then.”

“Actually,”

Peter’s shoulders slumped.

“You can watch his residence at night.”

“Have one of the kids do it.”

“They have school, Peter.”

“Fine.” Through gritted teeth Peter managed the one word. 

“When Scott figures out where he lives, I’ll let you know.” 

“Great.” Then added, “This is quite a situation you’ve gotten yourself into, Derek.”

Derek raised a questioning eyebrow.

“You have a pack full of self-esteem deprived werewolf adolescents, a banshee dreaming of impending doom, and a mystery teenager we know nothing about.”

“Your point?”

Peter just smiles before turning and heading back down the stairs. 

Derek’s eyebrows scrunch together in thought before cursing Peter under his breath and heading downstairs to where the rest of the pack awaited him.

 

* * *

 

Scott watched as Peter followed Derek up the stairs of the loft. He was smiling. Derek had agreed to go with his idea. 

He sat himself on a nearby chair. Erica and Boyd had taken over the couch, Erica being stretched across the length of it. Malia was laying on the hard floor, hands tucked behind her head, staring at the ceiling. Isaac hovered nearby against a wall staring out the windows on the far side. Jackson sat, on a matching chair to Scott’s, with Lydia on his lap. Jackson’s face was tucked into Lydia’s neck listening to her as she hummed. 

Isaac broke the silence. 

“Should I call Allison?”

Scott’s heart ached a little at the mention of her name. They had long since broken up but a part of him still loved her. He would probably always love her, it just wasn’t the same. He was actually glad to see Isaac and Allison getting along so well. They both deserved to be happy. It had taken him a while to admit it. He could recall throwing Isaac into the wall quite a few times for it. 

Scott shrugged but it was Erica who responded verbally.

“It doesn’t matter if you two are hooking up or banging each other. This is pack business. There is nothing she could do to help anyway.” 

Isaac deflated slightly and turned to Scott, seeking his opinion. 

“Not yet.” He agreed with Erica. They didn’t know what was going on, and if they got Allison involved by default her father would get involved. It wasn’t that Scott didn’t like Chris Argent, he did, it was that he couldn’t trust that their duty as Hunters wouldn’t overpower their loyalty to the pack.

Isaac nodded and planted himself back against the wall. 

Scott got bored quickly. He couldn’t help but wonder what Derek and Peter were talking about. He glanced around the room at his fellow pack members before he tilted his head upward and leaned forward. 

He caught the end of Peter’s rant. The words, “Why should we care?” 

Scott bristled at the evident disregard for life that was clear in Peter’s voice. Scott continued to listen in, his concentration only breaking when Lydia noticed what he was doing. 

“What are they talking about?” She asked.

“Derek want’s to know what Peter thinks.”

“And what does he think?”

“That Derek is crazy for putting so much faith in us.”

Lydia scoffed, no longer interested in the conversation going on above. The other wolves, following Scott’s lead, tilted their heads and listened in. Jackson quietly relayed the conversation to Lydia. 

Scott listened. He nodded occasionally when he agreed with or understood what was being said. He cringed when Peter suggested the bite. Relieve flooded him when Derek shut down the idea. His eyebrows scrunched together in question when Peter remained silent after Derek’s “Your point?” Had Peter whispered or just not answered?

The sound of feet hitting the stairs snapped the younger pack members from their group eavesdropping session. Scott looked up to see Peter sauntering his way down the stairs. Peter stopped at the bottom and stared at the pack with a scrutinizing look. Scott wondered if there was anyway to tell that they had been snooping into Derek and Peter’s conversation. 

He shifted in his seat, rubbing his hands together before coughing. He looked away from Peter and to the other members of his pack. Jackson and Lydia were leaning close together whispering about something, Malia was still on the floor, Isaac was staring at his phone, and Erica and Boyd lay on the couch with their eyes closed. Scott looked the most suspicious. He gave Peter a weak smile before pulling out his phone just to make appear to look like he was doing something. 

Derek followed down the stairs shortly after Peter. He looked less sceptical and suspicious of the group. They concluded the pack meeting and Scott took his leave, Isaac right on his heels. 

“Do you trust Peter?” 

Scott turned around to face Isaac, glancing back at the loft as he did so.

“I trust Derek.” He finally said. 

“And Derek trusts Peter.”

Scott nodded.

“Do you trust Derek?” 

Isaac hesitated before nodding. 

“Do you trust me?” Scott asked. He knew Isaac had trust issues, it was what made him easy to recruit to the pack. Isaac didn’t hesitated when he nodded this time.

“Derek knows what he is doing.” 

Scott rested his hand on Isaac’s shoulder. 

“A pack has to be able to trust one another.”

Isaac nodded before adding. “I don’t like him though.”

Scott gave Isaac’s shoulder a little squeeze before letting go and walking toward his bike. 

“You don’t have to.”

 

* * *

 

“Some people are natural beacons for the supernatural world. Beings are drawn to them. Often driven to posses, kill, or please them.”

“And you think Stiles could be one of those beings?”

“It’s not impossible.”

“But Stiles is human.”

“Being of the human or supernatural world has nothing to do with becoming a beacon. It’s the being itself that attracts it.” 

Scott had decided to stop by the animal clinic on his way home. He hadn’t actually expected Deaton to be there but he had caught Deaton as he was leaving. Deaton let Scott follow him back inside and Scott filled the veterinarian in about Lydia’s dream and how they found Stiles.

“It is quite intriguing though.” Deaton was flipping through pages of a really old book.

“What is?”

“The possibility of Stiles being a beacon of sorts. I wonder…”

“What? What do you wonder?”

“If Stiles has come into contact with the Nemeton.”

“What would that do?”

“I don’t know for sure. It could be an explanation to how Lydia was able to dream about him. It would also make a good emissary out of him if he were willing to learn.”

“An emissary? Like you?”

“Like me, but not exactly. You get the gist of it.”

“Could he be a druid?”

“Not likely. Odds are that Stiles is just a human. So what do you plan to do, Scott?” 

“Keep him safe without letting on that’s what I’m doing.”

“Do you plan to be attached to him at the hip at all times of the day?”

“No-”

“Then how do you expect to be able to protect him?”

“I’ll find a way.”

Deaton smiled fondly at Scott, small wrinkles forming at the edges of his eyes. He folded the book in his hands closed and rested it on the counter before turning back to Scott.

 

“It’s that attitude that makes me believe you have the potential to become a true Alpha, Scott.”  

Scott’s face flushed a light shade of red. 

“I’m fine with being a Beta.”

“But it may not be your destiny.” 


	3. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spending sometime with Danny had helped him process Scott’s friendship. He had friends. He sounded like a child.

Stiles found himself easily adjusted to the semester of classes followed by lacrosse practice. It had only been a couple days, but Stiles was sure his luck was turning around. Scott had grown on him. Surprisingly, Scott liked to talk, almost as much as Stiles. When Scott found a topic he liked or had a good day, he talked, and talked. Stiles was a happy participant in the conversations, it was nice to have someone to listen to and talk to.

He found himself among company more often than not during the duration of the week. Scott had even decided to introduce him to a few of his friends. He knew Jackson and Isaac of course, though he had never really spoken to the latter. Scott also introduced him to the stunning redhead, Lydia, and the slightly intimidating short-haired brunette, Malia. 

They had gone to lunch, off campus, to a little cafe close to the college. 

“Boyd and Erica couldn’t make it today, but I’d like you to meet them too. They’re pretty cool. Oh, and Alisson. Her and Isaac are kind of a thing now, I guess.” Scott almost sounded hurt by the thought, but he recovered quickly. He started talking about the rest of his group. 

Stiles nodded. He wasn’t sure why he felt so weird about meeting Scott’s friends. Stiles wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was a little jealous of how well known Scott was.  Did friends usually introduce new friends to their older friends? Stiles told himself he was overthinking the entire thing. 

They finally reached the cafe and Scott fell silent. He probably realized that Stiles had stopped responding. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

They entered the cafe. Scott immediately spotted his group and waved. Stiles dutifully followed him over, his hands tucked inside of his front pockets. He gave a small smile in response to Scott’s introduction. 

“Guys, this is Stiles. Stiles, this is Lydia and Malia. You already know Jackson and Isaac.”

Lydia who had been leaning on Jackson seemed to straighten at the introduction. Malia didn’t even smile. Her eyebrow seemed to quirk upward accusingly. 

Stiles felt scrutinized and under inspection. Jackson and Scott were the only ones who seemed unconcerned by his presence. 

Stiles and Scott took their seats at the table after pulling over a couple chairs from an unused table nearby. There was an awkward silence. Stiles was finding it harder to stay still. He felt the urge to move around or do something with his hands. It was Lydia who broke the silence.

“So, Stiles. What are you majoring in?”

A steady flow of conversation came after that. Stiles would occasionally catch one of them studying him like a puzzle, but he didn’t say anything about it. 

Overall, Stiles didn’t mind the group. 

Lydia was relatively quiet, making sure not to give too much about herself away. He found out that Lydia wasn’t actually a student there, but liked to use their library because it was close to home. She was attending a nearby four-year university. Stiles could tell she was very intelligent. He figured that if she tried, she probably would have gotten into Stanford without any trouble.

Everyone else went to school with Stiles. 

Malia was less intimidating when he realized she didn’t understand a lot of societal ideals. She laughed honestly at his jokes and asked strange questions when she didn’t understand. He had been taken aback at first but explained everything without teasing her. He didn’t ask any questions, just smiled when she understood. 

Jackson was still an asshole, but he didn’t treat Stiles any different than at practice. Which was appreciated.

Isaac was unsure about new people. He had the tell-tale signs of someone who had been abused in some way. Stiles had seen it before in kids his father had interviewed or removed from bad homes. Stiles didn’t say anything about it or push him to talk. Isaac didn’t seem to trust Stiles anyway, at least not at first, and it took a while before he said anything. Apparently he and Isaac had had a class together last semester. Stiles hadn’t remembered him until he mentioned the class, and he was pretty sure Isaac didn’t remember him at all.

“You sat by the exit.” Stiles recalled. When Isaac seemed a bit uncomfortable with the little fact Stiles was quick to add, “I have a good memory. Besides, I sat like- three rows behind you.”

Isaac just nodded and Stiles shifted the conversation to his other classes that semester. 

“What are you studying for?” Malia asked.

Stiles shrugged. “Nothing in particular. My goal was law enforcement but it’s nice to have a fall back plan.” 

“Law enforcement? You want to be a cop?”

Stiles shrugged. “I like helping people.” 

“Goody-two-shoes.” Mumbled Jackson.

Stiles’ lips twitch up mischievously. “You’d be surprised.”

Jackson’s face scrunched up. “What does that mean?”

Stiles gave a half shrug and changed the focus of the conversation off of himself. There was only so much he was willing to divulge to strangers.

“What about you, Scott?”

“Majoring Biology. I want to study veterinary science. I work part-time at an animal clinic in town.” 

Scott was relatively talkative, trying to keep the conversation going and to keep Stiles involved. After talking about their classes and desired areas of study; Jackson, Isaac, Scott, and Stiles spoke about lacrosse for a while. 

Stiles caught Lydia studying him again. Normally he wouldn’t mind being watched by an attractive person, but the looks weren’t that of admiration or attraction. He shifted uncomfortably under the attention. She seemed to have realized she had been staring and redirected her attention to Malia. Soon they were having two different conversations. Eventually Malia, intrigued by something Stiles had said about lacrosse, started asking questions. 

“Why don’t you just tackle them when they aren’t paying attention?”

“It’s not football. Besides, body checking is against the rules in most games. Lacrosse is a contact team sport but there are rules against hitting other players in certain ways. So not many people get hurt.”

“Oh. What’s the point of it then?”

“What’s the point of the sport?”

Malia nodded. Stiles was at a loss for words for about five seconds before his brain caught up. 

“Well, Lacrosse was originally a bunch of stick-ball sports played by American Indians. It’s different from other field sports because of the netted racquet that is used to scoop the ball off the ground. There isn’t a lot of early data about the sport so it’s hard to determine the actual reason for, although I’m quite sure it was just for entertainment, or the evolution of the game.” 

Stiles had been watching Malia as he spoke to her. He glanced at Scott, who was staring at him wide-eyed with a goofy smile. 

“What?”

“Dude, how many random facts do you have in that brain.”

Stiles shrugged. He spent a lot of his time on his laptop learning random things to help pass the time and to placate his ADHD ridden mind. 

His brain was overworking itself at that exact moment. He didn’t even really know these people and he had launched into a small rant. This sort of thing was what had chased away people in the past. 

Stiles leaned back against the chair and listened to the group speak for a while. He even picked up a few things that weren’t out right said. Isaac apparently lived with Scott. Jackson and Lydia were a thing, had been since high school. Malia seemed to be one of the newest members of the tight-knit group. 

The conversation slowed and after some time they all walked back to the college campus together. Most of the group split off after that. Scott elected to walk with Stiles to his next class, he apparently had a free period.

“I hope that wasn’t overwhelming or anything.” 

Stiles shook his head.

“No, it was nice. It was nice to meet them.”

“Erica and Boyd would have been there if they could have been.”

Stiles nodded. He wasn’t going to say it to Scott, but he was glad they didn’t make it. It wasn’t anything against them. Stiles hadn’t felt overwhelmed with the introduction of Lydia and Malia, that was true, but he didn’t know how he would have fared with the addition of two more people. 

Stiles had gotten the feeling that Scott and his group of friends were closer than they liked to portray. He had glimpsed one leaning into another subconsciously. The thought slipped out of his mouth before he could do anything about it. 

“You guys aren’t like an orgy cult or something right?” 

Stiles’ eyes widened as he caught Scott’s expression. 

“I didn’t mean anything bad about it- I was just-”

Stiles was cut off by Scott’s laughter.

When he didn’t stop Stiles shifted uneasily. 

“It’s not that funny.”

Scott wiped a tear from under his eyes and struggled to contain himself.

“Sorry. Sorry. I just- that was one of the funniest things I have been asked. Why did you even think that?”

Stiles’ lips itched to smile with Scott, instead he just ran his hands down his face.

“May have been one of the most embarrassing things I’ve asked.” 

That didn’t help the situation. Scott who had managed his laughter down to a snicker lost all control. 

Stiles shook his head and began walking away. 

“See you around, Scotty!” He left Scott laughing to himself. 

It hit Stiles when he entered his class that he had given Scott a nickname. He had called him Scotty. He ran his hands down his face for the second time that day and lay his head against the table. The professor walked in seven minutes late and Stiles did his best to focus. 

Stiles successfully avoided Scott after class. He sat in the driver's seat of his jeep tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. He didn’t know why he was hiding. He had a good time at lunch with Scott’s group, and then he had accidentally given Scott a nickname. Did that mean they were friends? When had they gone from just teammates to friends? He had a friend. He was also avoiding his friend. Stiles smacked his head against the steering wheel. The sudden blaring of his horn made him sit straight up in surprise. 

“Hey.” 

Stiles’ attention snapped to the person standing outside of his car. 

“Hey, Danny.”

Stiles watched Danny move out of his way as he exited the jeep.

“You hiding from someone?” Danny joked.

“Something like that.”

“You have class soon?”

Stiles checked the time on his phone. 

“Not for another hour. What’s up?”

“Cool. You want to help me out with something?”

“Sure.” 

Stiles followed Danny to one of the many college computer labs. 

“You remember everything I taught you in highschool, right?”

“Yeah. Kind of hard to forget it when I’m constantly using it.”

Danny’s lips twitched up in a smile.

“So, I’m running a bit behind schedule with my client requests. I have to do a phone recovery, two email recoveries, a footage recovery, and-”

“I get it. I’m here to help. Put me to work.” 

Danny did a quick recap on how he liked to do things and left Stiles to deal with the footage while he worked on the phone. Stiles had agreed to his privacy term, even signed an actual document for it and all. Stiles fiddled with the camera for a moment, the device looked relatively unharmed. However, when he slid the battery compartment open drops of water hit his leg. He sighed. Did people not know that all cameras were not, in fact, waterproof? 

Stiles did his best to make sure the rest of the camera was dry while he checked the SD card. He went down the list checking for disk errors before running a command prompt and booting up a recovery program.

Stiles enjoyed work like this. It drew in his focus and kept him from thinking about anything else. His hands moved across the keyboard as he worked, the steady strumming of Danny typing echoing his own. They worked side by side in silence for a good forty-five minutes. Stiles leaned back in the computer chair, arms resting behind his head. 

“Hey, Danny?”

“Hmm?”

“We’re friends, right?”

“Yes, Stiles.” 

Stiles smiled to himself.

“Your subscription to my friendship runs out in a couple days though. You should pay the fifteen-dollar subscription fee soon if you are satisfied with the product.” 

Stiles let out a laugh and half-heartedly punched Danny in the arm. 

“Quick question.”

Danny raised an eyebrow and turned to Stiles.

“Why did you drag me to lacrosse try-outs?”

Danny actually gave it some thought. The question hadn’t really surprised him as far as Stiles could tell. 

“You were good in high school.”

Stiles gave him a look. 

“I’m serious. Do you remember the game where Coach swapped you and Greenberg out?”

“I remember him saying it was because, and I quote, ‘sucked a little less’.”

“Yeah but then you scored. And scored again. You scored like three more times after that. You won that game for us.” 

Stiles nods. He remembered that night clearly. His dad had been at the game, cheering for Stiles the entire time.

“You’re good for the team.”

Stiles smiled brightly at Danny.

“You still sure you aren’t attracted to me, Danny?”

“Not my type.”

“Right.” 

Stiles dragged the word out teasingly. 

Before the hour was up, Danny had managed to make progress on the phone while Stiles had recovered the footage and one of the requested emails. 

He didn’t see why the footage was so important. It had been shot at night and had pretty shitty lighting. The full moon had been the only source of light. The forest around the person behind the camera was eerie and bland. There was a howl in the background that made the camera person jump and shake the camera. They were walking through the woods before finally breaking through the growth to a clearing. It was a party in the woods. Drunk kids were dancing around a bonfire and making noise. 

Stiles didn’t bother watching any further. He had done his job and recovered the video. He handed it over to Danny as the two of the exited the computer lab. 

“Thanks for your help, Stiles.” 

“Any time.” Stiles meant it. It had been a relaxing hour. He hadn’t thought about Scott, or lacrosse practice, or going home to an empty house. 

He walked as far as he could with Danny before splitting off and heading to his last class of the day. 

“I’ll see you at practice!” 

Danny gave him a wave in return before turning away. 

Stiles went through his last class in a happy daze. Spending sometime with Danny had helped him process Scott’s friendship. He had friends. He sounded like a child. Stiles had to put an extra effort into focusing since he was having trouble sitting still and listening to the professor talk. He needed to be doing something with his hands. 

He greeted Scott happily at lacrosse practice. Stiles even found it in himself to greet Jackson, who grunted and rolled his eyes in response, and Isaac, who gave him a small wave in return. 

Danny’s reminder of the game Stiles had won for the team in high school revitalized his love for the sport. He earned himself a compliment from Finstock. 

“Don’t expect much from him, Coach. Chances are he will be back to his disappointing self at next practice.” 

“Don’t be jealous, Jackson.” 

“I’m not.”

Stiles just smiled. It was a good day. 

“I think Stilinski is broken.”

Stiles face fell into a playful frown. 

“Shut up, Whittemore.” 

Stiles made a mental note to check his ADHD medicine just incase his mood was from an imbalance. 

Practice flew by. Stiles was breathing heavy by the end of it, like he always was. Scott lay next to him on the ground, tired but breathing relatively normal.

“Stiles?”

“Yeah?” 

“Could I ask a favor?”

“Shoot.”

“Can I get a ride home?”

Stiles turned to look at Scott. 

“Yeah, man.”

“Thanks.”

“What happened to your bike? I don’t have a problem driving you or anything, I’m just curious.”

“I slid off the road. It ended up in the trees somewhere. I have to get some money together to get it fixed up.”

“Are you okay? I didn’t even notice anything had happened. Should you even be at practice after an accident?” Stiles sat up, followed by Scott.

“I barely got a scratch. My bike took most of the damage.”

“I’ll give you a ride for as long as you need, man.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” 

With that, the two of them gathered their things and Scott followed Stiles to his jeep. 

“You can just toss your bag into the back.” Stiles said as he tossed his own onto the floor of the back.

Scott nodded before he followed suit, tossing his stuff onto the back seat. 

Stiles followed Scott’s directions to his house. He was familiar with the entire area, having grown up here, so he already had a general idea of which direction to go when Scott told him his address.

“Dude, you live basically down the street from me.” Stiles commented as he pulled into Scott’s driveway. 

“Really?”

“Yeah.” 

Scott’s face lit up with the realization. 

“I don’t mind driving you home for the rest of the week if you need it.” Stiles offered. 

Scott nodded at the offer. “That would be great.” 

Stiles gave Scott a little wave as Scott made his way to the front door of his house. Stiles pulled out of the driveway and headed home. It was only a few minutes down the road but Stiles felt more exhausted right at that moment than he had all day so the drive felt longer. 

He parked his jeep and climbed tiredly out of the car. After dragging his feet through the front door, Stiles collapsed face first onto the couch. He groaned and shifted as he pulled the tv remote out from under him. He tossed it onto the nearby coffee table, flinching at the noise it made. 

Someone nudged his foot. 

“Stiles. Come on, bud. I got you a bed for a reason.” 

“Too far.” Stiles mumbled into the couch cushion. He hadn’t expected his dad to be home so soon. 

“Did you eat anything?” 

“No.”

“Alright. I’ll whip us up something real quick while you go take a shower. You stink.”

His dad had said it in a loving manner but at the comment Stiles pushed himself up off the couch and toward his dad. 

“I wanna give you a hug.” Stiles said, his arms open, as he approached his dad. “To show you how much I appreciate you.”

“Oh no. Don’t you even think about it. Show your appreciation by going and taking a shower.”

Nothing could deter Stiles when he set him mind to something. He cornered his dad and gave him a stinky hug. His dad didn’t try to push him away even though he continued to complain. 

“Alright, alright. I’m going.” Stiles let his dad go and skipped up the stairs to go take a shower. He gave himself a sniff and pulled away, making a face. He definitely needed a shower. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! I wanted to post the chapter earlier today. I had a chapter all written out and ready last night and then I decided I didn't like the chapter placement and wanted a chapter in between the last one I posted and the one I originally planned on posting. So I wrote a new chapter. At least next weeks chapter is ready to go with no delay.   
> I hope you like it.   
> Thanks to everyone who left kudos and comments! <3 <3


	4. Can I see?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles rolled onto his back and stared up at the sky, squinting his eyes against the sun. A shadow fell over him and Stiles opened his eyes fully.
> 
> “Having fun down there?”
> 
> “Sure. Only staving off the impending doom of hurricane Whittemore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check out my poll for Fic Villains: https://goo.gl/RYcMFC   
> I'm trying to decide whether or not to write an OC Villian for this fic and want to see what the majority of you want to see. 
> 
> Leave kudos and comments please!! <3   
> Enjoy <3

It was burning hot. The sun was still high in the sky, no clouds in sight. The weather itself wouldn’t have been too bad had it not been for all the running and exercise Coach had them doing. 

Stiles’ hands rested on his hips as he panted heavily. His eyes scanned the field, Scott was just finishing his final lap followed by angry-face, also known as Jackson, and Coach was busy yelling at Greenburg. That left Stiles with a few minutes to catch his breath. 

A lone figure squatting close to the ground with some attractive tech in his hands caught Stiles’ attention. Stiles glanced back at Coach before jogging over to where the camera wielding person was. As Stiles got closer he recognized the short brown fluffy hair that sat atop the college student’s head. 

“Hey, Matt. Whatcha up to?” Stiles slid to the ground exhausted. Lacrosse practice was going to be the death of him, he was sure of it. He was beginning to really regret sticking around. The long practice hours after his daily classes really made it difficult for him to find time for anything else.

“Taking a couple practice shots.” Matt Daehler had his camera pointed at the lacrosse team as they practiced. Stiles watched as Matt’s finger eased onto a button and listened as the shutter clicked.

“Shouldn’t you be practicing with them?”

“Taking a break.” Came Stiles’ quick reply. “Can I see?”

Matt hesitated before nodding. He lowered his camera from his face and clicked a few buttons. The pictures he had taken quickly popped up and he handed his camera over to Stiles who carefully took it, a smile plastered to his face. Stiles scrolled through, appreciating each movement the photos captured.

“Dude, these are really good.”

Stiles continued to scroll through, stopping at a picture of Scott. Stiles glanced quickly at Matt before turning back to the camera in his hands.

“Hey, what’s up with this?”

Matt leaned over to look at the picture Stiles was talking about. 

“Some version of red-eye, I guess. Could just be random flares off the lens. I’ll just delete them later.”

Stiles continued to scroll stopping again at a picture of Jackson and Isaac. His brows furrowed slightly at the odd flare in the photo. It had been the same with Scott. When Matt’s attention was briefly directed else where, Stiles pulled out his phone and snapped a quick picture of the two photographs. 

Stiles then continued to scroll through the photos, appreciating the quality of the photos while simultaneously searching for more flares. He didn’t find anymore, however he did notice something else in the occasional photo. It seemed as if Scott, Jackson, and Isaac were watching him. In one of the photos he was on his backside, having just been tackled to the ground, and in the background Isaac had an arm, muscles strained, wrapped around Scott’s shoulders keeping him from running toward Stiles. In another, during the partner exercises, Scott and Jackson’s eyes were once again on Stiles while he practiced with Greenburg.

“Stilinski! Get your lazy butt back on the field before I assign you to the bench.” Coach Finstock’s voice snapped Stiles out of his curiosity. He carefully handed Matt his camera back with a meek smile before standing. 

“Thanks man, for letting me look. You’ve gotten a lot better since high school.” Stiles gave Matt a small smile and wave before running/stumbling back onto the field. 

Finstock continued to drill Stiles harder than anyone else for the rest of practice. When Finstock called the end of practice, Stiles found himself collapsing onto the ground in relief. He was already covered in dirt and sweat so it didn’t really matter to him if he got a little more dirt on himself. The moment of relaxation was short lived.

“Stilinski! You have another half hour. Practice your tosses or something.”

Stiles groaned into the dirt and grass. 

“Coach, I’ll stay to make sure he doesn’t slack off.”

Stiles lifted his head off the ground in surprise before squinting his eyes in suspicion. 

“Thank you, Jackson. I’ll keep that in mind for when I pick the team captain”

Stiles watched Jackson’s face twist from a smile to a smirk as Coach placed his hand on Jackson’s shoulder, squeezing it in approval, before walking away. 

Stiles rolled onto his back and stared up at the sky, squinting his eyes against the sun. A shadow fell over him and Stiles opened his eyes fully.

“Having fun down there?”

“Sure. Only staving off the impending doom of hurricane Whittemore.” 

Scott’s smile could challenge the sun in a competition of brightness. Stiles had noticed that Scott was almost always smiling. Stiles had only ever really seen Scott scowl or get upset when he was around Jackson. In general though, Scott was always positive about everything. It simultaneously irritated Stiles and made Stiles happy.  

Stiles honestly liked Scott. He laughed at Stiles’ lame jokes, listened to him rant and complain during lacrosse practice; it was nice to be able to talk to someone. They talked during practice, occasionally met up after classes, and get together to grab a bite when they were both hungry. Despite having only really been talking to each other for a week, Scott himself had even opened up to Stiles a bit, telling him about his mom, Melissa, who worked as a nurse at the local hospital. 

Scott reached down, offering Stiles his hand. Stiles begrudgingly took it and let Scott pull him to his feet. He dusted himself off and nodded his thanks to Scott who smiled in return. 

“How is the work on your bike going?” Stiles asked quickly when he remembered he had offered Scott a ride anytime while it was still being repaired. He had been giving Scott a ride home since last week.

“Not great. I have a ride though. I’m supposed to go to a meeting later.”

“Oh. That’s good.” Stiles was only a little bit curious as to who Scott was getting a ride from.

“Let’s go, Stilinski.”

Stiles sighed and began heading toward Jackson, his lacrosse stick in hand.

When Stiles reached Jackson he glanced over at Scott, who hesitated before turning and leaving the field. Stiles was trying really hard not to pay attention to whose car pulled up to the curb where Scott was standing.

A ball came flying out of nowhere, smacking Stiles in the gut. 

“Focus, Stilinski.”

Stiles groaned and cursed Jackson under his breath. 

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one tossing the ball?” He finally asked when he straightened himself from his hunched over position. It wasn’t really a question. They had both heard Coach.

Jackson tossed another ball at Stiles, who ducked out of the way. 

“At least try to catch it! How did you even make the team?” Stiles could already tell that Jackson was getting irritated. He wondered how mad Jackson was going to be by the end of their little practice session. Not many people could handle Stiles alone for extended periods of time.

Stiles despised Jackson’s smug look. It took him a couple minutes but Stiles finally began taking the extra practice seriously. He stopped dodging the ball and began catching and throwing it back. 

Jackson had him practice ground ball pick ups, cradling the ball, the drill (switching catching and throwing with his left and right hand), dodging, and tackling. Although he could dodge Jackson charging at him, Stiles failed at knocking Jackson back hard enough to hit the ground. Stiles had made a comment about it having to be supernatural strength or steroids. He then proceeded to lecture Jackson on how steroids weren’t good for him. The entire thing had earned Stiles a tackled to the ground. He landed on his backside with a groan. Jackson’s laughter had Stiles forcing himself to get up and recover quickly. Had this been during regular practice Stiles would have probably just layed on the ground for an extended period of time. 

Stiles peeled himself off the ground and caught the ball that was flung his way. They carried on like that for a while longer. 

Jackson did give him a few good pointers, although Stiles wouldn’t outwardly tell him. 

“Don’t coast, Stiles. Go as hard as you can, you aren’t going to hurt me.” 

Stiles, despite being exhausted, pushed himself harder. He knew he could become a good lacrosse player, it was just that half the time he was too lazy to put in the effort. 

“No bad for a hu-” Jackson stopped himself mid sentence and Stiles raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Not bad, for a what?” Stiles was almost sure Jackson was about to say human. Or- Nope. That was the only word he could think of. Unless Jackson wanted to call him hummus or hulk, and those he seriously doubted. 

“Huge idiot.” Jackson responded, a small smirk tugging at the top of his lip. Stiles scowled. 

Jackson worked Stiles to the bone for a full hour. 

Stiles was actually almost grateful by the end of it, albeit a bit sore and hungry. 

Jackson was the one who called an end to the practice. He had glanced from the sky to his watch and called it quits.

“That’s enough. I’m heading home.”

Stiles hunched over his knees panting. He raised a hand in goodbye when Jackson passed by him. 

“Alright. I’ll-” Stiles took a deep breath. “Just be here.” Stiles huffed out the words to himself.

He felt like he had made progress, although he could have done without all the yelling and rude comments about his form. This was the most exercise and lacrosse practice he had done in a while. Stiles was pretty sure he would be sore and bruised for the next couple days.

A few moments later Stiles forced himself to stand up straight. He gathered his things and shoved them into his gym bag. With his bag slung over his shoulder, and lacrosse stick in his hand, Stiles made his way toward the empty parking lot where his lone jeep sat in the dark. 

He shot his dad a quick text letting him know he was on his way home and started the jeep. The engine purred alive, Stiles considered it purring with all the other noises his jeep tended to make when he turned the ignition, and Stiles shifted gears.

The drive home was slow. Stiles was easily annoyed by it. His mind was trying to process a million thoughts at once, most of which didn’t currently make sense to him. It took all his concentration not to speed down the road. He tapped his fingers against the jeep’s steering wheel while he drove. At a red light he tapped his fingers against the steering wheel and bounced his knee up and down.

His dad was already home when Stiles pulled into the driveway. He left his gym bag in the back of the jeep and carried his school bag with him to the house. The smell of dinner wafted to his senses and he hummed with pleasure as he walked through the front door. 

“Dad, I’m home.”

“Hey, kid. You’re late.”

Stiles dropped his bag in the living room and followed his dad’s voice into the kitchen.

“Yeah, I stayed a little late for lacrosse practice.”

Stiles folded his hands together, fiddling with his fingers. He sat himself on top of a nearby counter and watched his dad move around the kitchen with ease. 

“Yeah? How in the hell did they get you to even agree to play? I can barely get you to do the dishes. Stiles get off the counter, that’s unsanitary.”

Stiles stayed planted where he was, not to spite his dad but rather to cause mild irritation. Besides, he was comfortable.

“Funny, dad. You’re hilarious. Danny kind of dragged my butt to tryouts. I decided to stick around when I made the team.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? We could of had a celebratory dinner out or something.”

Stiles shrugged. 

“You’ve been busy and I didn’t want to add to the plate. Besides, I’m not going to let you use me getting onto the lacrosse team to feed your unhealthy habits of fast food.”

His dad scoffed at him. “Stiles, that is good news. Only bad news adds to the plate. Even if it was bad news, I would want you to tell me. Understand?”

Stiles nodded, then switched the subject. 

“So what’s for dinner?”

“Salad and grilled chicken.”

“Awesome. I’m gonna go get cleaned up and then come back down.”

“Alright. Hey, Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really proud of you, bud.”

Stiles smiled, looked down at his feet and looked back up at his dad.

“Thanks, dad.”

Stiles took the stairs two at a time and tossed his shirt off as he entered his room. It landed on a pile of clothes already gathered onto the floor. He would have to do laundry soon. He shifted through his clean clothes for a minute, searching for a new shirt and some sweats. 

For an unexplainable reason Stiles found himself drawn to the window. He stared down at the street and nearby trees. He couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but the odd sensation of being watched followed him around the room. He shook the feeling off and took a quick shower before meeting his dad downstairs for dinner. 

When Stiles finally made it back to his room after dinner and spending time with his dad, he was exhausted. He looked from his desk, where his laptop sat, to his bed. The regular internal debate over staying up or trying another attempt at sleep happened in a matter of seconds. The laptop won. 

He planted himself in his computer chair and booted the laptop on. Within a few moments he was on the web searching different types of lens flares. His phone in one hand, open to the pictures, as a reference to what he was seeing on the web. 

From what he gathered, lens flares only occurred when pointed at a light source. Then there was the red-eye effect that sometimes occurred in photos but that was nothing like the photos Matt had taken. Stiles was on page twenty-eight in a google search, there had been over three-million results, when an image caught his attention. 

It wasn’t a photograph, but rather a realistic drawing. Or- Stiles did a double take. It wasn’t a realistic drawing. It was a photograph taken in the late eighteen-hundreds or early nineteen-hundreds. An image taken by a Kodak camera, one of the first. 

Stiles got sidetracked. The image was so old, and his brain craved new and random knowledge. While the first camera was invented/envisioned in sixteen-eighty-five it wasn’t until about one-hundred-fifty years later that the first photograph was taken. It was a very simple box camera but Stiles lost himself in the history and science behind it. He spent another half hour searching for it’s schematics and an explanation for how light may affect an image taken by the camera. 

Without much luck he turned back to the image he had found, once again comparing it to the picture sitting in his phone. The flare was the same. That much Stiles had decided. 

The eyes of the photograph seemed to generate their own light, producing the same flare it would if the camera had been pointed at the sun. The man in the photo wore a finely pressed wool suit, a waistcoat visible underneath, and a newsboy cap. Stiles figured the man in the photo couldn’t be older than twenty-two. The image itself was posted on a supernatural lore site, he had traced it back to its original source. 

He had never appreciated Danny tutoring him in code, he had asked Danny during high school one year when he decided to hack the police radio, more than he did

Stiles had never fully appreciated Danny tutoring him in code more than he did now. The fact that Danny had also dragged Stiles into helping him out the other day was a bonus. Stiles hadn’t used the skills Danny taught him much during high school. He used it more during college but even he knew he needed more practice to be as good as Danny. 

Stiles had read numerous conspiracy journals before. He had quickly learned how to separate complete bullshit from something plausible. This one was almost too close to tell.

He read the introduction. The author claimed to be descendants of the Largent’s, a French family.  The Author made a note about their own last name, which had changed over time. Stiles had come up with several theories. During their move someone may have misheard and misspelled it, maybe they wanted to get away from their past, or maybe they were spies. Either way, according to the author, the Argents had a history that was impossible to erase with a simple letter removal. 

Stiles read/skimmed through every piece of information on the site. There wasn’t anything recent, the last post was from four years ago.Stiles wondered what happened to the Author four years ago that made them stop. His thoughts went dark and he imagined the Author dead, maybe buried underground with his throat slashed open by one of the creatures he wrote about. The more reasonable side of his mind just assumed the Author had better things to do with their time than writing something Stiles didn’t think was even meant for the public. 

The entire site was all very vague. One of the very first posts explained the existence of numerous supernatural creatures. Another described, again very vaguely, the role in history the Largent (later, the Argent) family played. The next few Stiles didn’t even bother to look at. When the first supernatural creature was described, Stiles took his time. He read the article then compared what the Author describe with what more commonly viewed supernatural sights said about the creature. There were some parallels and other very important differences. 

Stiles lost track of time, something he did very often. He leaned back in his chair and glanced toward his window before resting his head against the back of his chair and stared up at the ceiling. His leg moved the chair subconsciously, swaying him back and forth. He closed his eyes and mulled over the information he just learned.

Things were slowly beginning to click into place. Beacon Hills would forever be changed in his mind. He had so many more questions. So many more things he wanted to research. Stiles lifted his head off the chair and turned back to his laptop, ready to dig deeper into the mysteries forming in his mind.

He took one glance at the time, slid his hands away from the keyboard, and dropped his head onto his desk, groaning. It was four in the morning and Stiles had to be up in a couple hours for class. He lifted his head and banged it repeatedly, and quietly, against his desk. 

Finally, Stiles lifted his head off the table and closed his laptop. He pushed his chair away and flopped onto his bed, barely gracing the floor with his feet. He kicked the chair away slightly and stared up at the ceiling. He wondered what he would dream about tonight. Would his mind betray him, or would it let him sleep without interruption? 

He sighed and turned his head up toward the window. The moon glowed brightly through the blinds covering his window. Stiles pushed himself off his bed and sauntered toward the window. With two fingers he propped the blinds open. His eyes easily found the moon. A waxing gibbous stared back at Stiles. The full moon was in a couple of days. 

For the second time that night, something drew Stiles’ eyes toward the darkness. His eyes scanned back and forth. They didn’t land on anything in particular, just wandered toward the tree line and down the street. Nothing. Stiles sighed and settled back into his bed. He was probably just going crazy. 

 

* * *

 

 

“Derek, please.”

Peter groaned and glanced back up at the window. It was the only room in the house with a light on. It was a pale glow, and Peter assumed it was a laptop screen. It was two in the morning and Peter was exhausted. 

He had been there since nine. He had been there when the police cruiser pulled into the driveway and parked next the the jeep. The sheriff stepped out of the car and Peter cursed to himself. This kid was the son of the sheriff, and that complicated things. 

“I don’t see the point in this. It’s not like he will drop dead if I get one night’s good sleep.” Peter said now.

“Peter.”

“This kid does nothing but eat, sleep, talk, and play on his computer. He mumbled to himself. I’m not so sure I even want to know what that’s about.”

Peter swore he could hear the smile on Derek’s face when he responded.

“It’s a precaution. Lydia and Scott-”

“Let Scott deal with this then. Let him be the hero of his morally black and white world.”

“Peter-”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Scott has school in the morning.” Peter rolled his eyes and hung up. This was the problem with teenagers and college kids. 

He plopped himself down against a tree trunk, closed his eyes and listened. The teen was typing something. He heard his heart rate spike for a moment before it settled down. Peter wondered what the boy was looking at. 

“Does this kid ever sleep?” Peter muttered to himself.

It wasn’t until after four in the morning that Stiles closed his laptop and settled into bed. A moment later though, the kid was back up on his feet. Peter stood and placed himself farther into the darkness. The boy at the window was pale and exhausted, but something in his eyes reminded Peter of himself. It was a calculating look, a look that spotted other people's weaknesses and used it as leverage. The kid’s eyes scanned right over Peter and he let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. Of course the boy couldn’t see him, he wasn’t a werewolf. 

Finally, the human turned away and went back to bed. Peter listened as the boy’s breathing steadied and evened out; the kid even snored a bit. 


	5. Stilinski Library of Unplanned Supernatural Introduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles ran, scooped the ball up and as he went to toss it, he tripped. The ball launched out of the net at the end of his lacrosse stick and into the air. It hurdled its way over to where Scott stood, his back almost completely turned toward Stiles...  
> Stiles watched the ball spin. In those few seconds he hated himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!! Happy Holidays!  
> I wanted to start the new year off with something good. 2016 was a rough year for a lot of us, I'm here for anyone who needs it. You guys are great.  
> As far as I have planned, I will still post a chapter on Wednesday.

Stiles was sat in his favorite corner of the library. He was staring at the uncategorized books. They had always held an air of mystery around them but he had always been too focused on other things to really consider them. 

Thinking about it now, not once had Stiles seen someone check out one of these books. 

They were a mystery, a puzzle to solve, and Stiles didn’t have anything better to do.

Before he knew what he was doing Stiles found himself at the front desk. The girl sitting there looked up at him with a small smile and quirked her one of her eyebrows up at him. 

“Can I help you?”

“Uh, no- I mean, yes.”

She didn’t say anything so Stiles awkwardly continued, pointing the section of books he had just left. “Do you know what those books are? I mean- their books, yes, but why are they over there? Why aren’t they labeled?”

The girl glanced over his shoulder to where he was pointing. 

“Oh. Those were either from the original college library or found in a storage room in the basement. They slowly got moved there over time as new, sometimes updated versions of books were brought into the library. The head librarian is thinking about donating them to another library or something.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Stiles gave her a small smile before heading back over to the books. 

Instead of sitting back down, he slid his fingers across the spines of some of the books. He read some of the titles quietly to himself. He could pronounce most of them, and the rest he attempted to sound out despite the language barrier. 

Shakespearean books from 1807,  _ The Republic  _ by Plato,  _ The Brothers Karamazov _ by Fyodor Dostoevsky; the list went on. 

Stiles stopped at a small black book. He almost hadn’t seen it, however, something about it called to him. He slid his fingers over the text on the spine, the title was in Latin. Stiles pulled it off the shelf and flipped it open. It was a journal of sorts, entirely written in Latin. He didn’t know what he was expecting. Of course a book with a Latin title would be written in Latin. There were pictures though; that was probably what made him decide to keep the book. 

Stiles brought the book back to the table and flipped through the old stained-yellow pages. It was all hand-written and hand-drawn which led to Stiles’ assumption of it being one of a kind. There were images of different moon cycles, plants, werewolves, and creatures Stiles had never even heard of. 

He thought of Scott, Jackson, and Isaac. Were Malia and Lydia the same? Could the other two people Scott wanted to introduce him to be the same? He stopped himself from jumping to conclusions. He didn’t know anything for sure yet. He could just be making things up.

As Stiles flipped through the pages it became clear that he was going to have to teach himself Latin. The book was obviously unfinished, the blank pages near the end were the give-away. 

Stiles stopped flipping through the pages suddenly and ran his fingers across the space where the pages connected to the inner headband of the book. The remains of a torn page ruffled against his fingers. Stiles continued to scan the pages for anymore defilement. He found several more places where pages were torn from the book. His eyebrows scrunched downward in confusion. He wouldn’t know what was really missing from the book until he could read it. 

Stiles sighed and placed the book onto the table before him. Pulling out his phone, Stiles googled language videos for Latin. There were quite a few results. 

He listened to multiple videos as he completed his class assignments. The videos mostly acted as background noise. When a particular phrase or word caught his attention, Stiles would repeat it out loud, quietly, to himself. 

He continued like this until he had to leave for his next class. When he gathered his stuff, rather than put the small black book back on the shelf, Stiles carefully slipped it into one of his binders and into his backpack. He put every other book he pulled out to use for class work onto the returned books cart. 

He gave the girl at the front desk a small smile and wave as he left. He scolded himself silently when he realized that was probably the most suspicious thing he could have done other than flaunt the book around. She had mentioned the library was contemplating donating those books, they wouldn’t miss one black book right? The book was basically being donated anyway. Rather than being shoved in a basement somewhere, the book would have a new home in the Stilinski Library of Unplanned Supernatural Introduction.

At practice Stiles tried to keep his distance from Scott, Isaac, and Jackson. He wasn’t afraid or anything, definitely not. He just wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. He wasn’t really sure about anything at that moment.

Stiles lay on his stomach in the grass. He was supposed to be doing push-ups. 

“To build upper arm strength.” Had been Coach’s reason for the annoying physical exertion.

There was just so much going on in his mind. He barely registered Scott asking him if he was alright. Stiles nodded, told Scott he was just tired, and lifted himself off the ground, joining the team in counting each complete push-up. 

Watching them at practice, Stiles didn’t see anything abnormal. They were human, as far as he could tell. He thought back to the articles he read last night. What had it said about them? Enhanced speed, strength, sense of smell, hearing. 

Stiles stared at the white ball in front of him and glanced in Scott’s direction. His eyes traveled from Scott over to Jackson, then from Jackson to Isaac, and then back to Scott. He looked back down at the ball, face scrunching in consideration. 

This was stupid, he shouldn’t do it. 

He decided to do it anyway. 

He bounced up and down for a moment as he psyched himself up enough to go through with it.

Stiles ran, scooped the ball up and as he went to toss it, he tripped. The ball launched out of the net at the end of his lacrosse stick and into the air. It hurdled its way over to where Scott stood, his back almost completely turned toward Stiles. Stiles landed on the ground, flat on his stomach, before the ball reached its destination. Stiles watched the ball spin. In those few seconds he hated himself. 

What if Scott didn’t catch the ball? 

What if he was wrong? 

A small part of himself was proud though, the ball was spinning in the direction he wanted it to. A couple years ago, he was sure it would have went spiralling in another direction and hit an innocent bystander. 

Stiles’ eyes caught Scott’s movements, even the little ones. There was a small tilt of Scott’s head before he began turning toward Stiles. Stiles watched Scott’s eyes flick up to the ball instantly before directing their focus elsewhere, making it appear as if he had a bad reaction time. 

Stiles had to give Scott some credit, if he didn’t know what he was looking for, Stiles would be completely unaware of how aware Scott was. 

Scott moved his arms up to his face when the ball got closer to his face. Stiles watched Scott catch the ball and roll with the momentum of it as if the ball had hit him. 

As Scott hit the ground with a thud, Stiles jumped to his feet, calling out an apology as he ran toward his fallen teammate.

“Oh my god! I am so sorry! Scott! Are you okay?”

Stiles was sorry, he hadn’t wanted to throw the ball at Scott. He had wanted to do it to Jackson. However, he was more afraid of Jackson’s retaliation and was pretty sure that Scott would believe it was an accident and accept his apologies. 

Stiles quickly glanced at where Scott had let the ball roll before turning his full attention to Scott. 

Scott groaned. Stiles figured it was just for show. Either that, or falling on the ground had actually hurt him a little.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asked again. 

Scott pushed himself up into a sitting position.

“Yeah. All good.”

Stiles watched Scott rub his forearms for effect. 

Coach had come running over to see what the trouble was. He looked between Stiles and Scott before yelling at an unreasonably close distance.

“Stilinski!”

“Yes, Coach?”

“Did you somehow get worse in the last two hours? Thirty more minutes overtime!” Coach walked away yelling at Greenberg. “You want to continue laughing, Greenberg? You can join Stilinski for overtime if it pleases you.” 

Stiles cringed. He intentionally fell backwards onto his bottom so he was sitting with his legs out infront of him. He hadn’t thought about the repercussions. His dad was always on him about that. He marked it on his mental list as something to work on. But, he had been right. Something was definitely different with Scott. Something inhuman.

“Sorry, man.” 

Stiles broke away from his thoughts and redirected his attention back to Scott. The apology caught him by surprise.

“Why are you apologizing to me? I was the one who hit you with the ball.”

Scott shrugged. Stiles gaped at him for a moment before he snapped his jaw shut. Stiles pushed himself to his feet, leaned down and reached his hand out to give Scott a hand off the ground. Scott accepted and Stiles helped him to his feet. Stiles brushed some dirt off of Scott’s shoulder before pulling away. 

“I am sorry about that.” Stiles mentioned again.

“It’s all good.” Scott had one of his goofy smiles hanging loosely from his lips. “Didn’t even leave a scratch.”

Stiles didn’t avoid Scott after that. They did the drills together, bantered, and joked. Coach had even put them on the same team during a mock match. He split the teams as evenly as possible, Scott and Stiles on one team and Jackson and Isaac on the other. 

Despite the fact that it was so easy to get along with Scott despite his discover, Stiles had trouble focusing on the game. Was he supposed to tell Scott he knew? 

The game ended with Jackson’s team victorious. 

“Sorry we lost. My head wasn’t really in the game.” Stiles apologized to Scott because he was pretty sure he had been more of a handicap to his team than any help. 

“Really? Don’t you usually just suck?” 

Stiles glared at Jackson. He wanted to wipe the smug look off the jerk’s face. Outing him as a werewolf would probably do that. Stiles bit the inside of his cheek. There was a reason the supernatural was kept quiet. That would probably be a bad idea he decided. There was a saying about cornering wild animals and all that. He would just have to settle for keying the side of Jackson’s Porsche.  

“Jackson.”

Stiles hadn’t noticed Isaac standing behind the current object of his anger. Scott’s hand landed on Stiles’ shoulder and tugged him away from Jackson and Isaac. Stiles let Scott lead him away.

“You weren’t that bad.” Scott managed after a few more moments of silence.

“You are a terrible liar.”

“I can be pretty convincing.”

“You have tells, man. You basically tell people you are lying when you are lying to them.”

“I have tells?”

“Everybody has them, Scott. Yours are just super obvious.”

“What are they?”

“If I told you, I wouldn’t have much of an advantage over your-” Stiles stopped himself. He had almost said “enhanced senses.” 

“Stiles?”

Stiles shook his head.

“Sorry, I just remembered that I have to stay another thirty-minutes after practice. Do you-” Before Stiles could finish asking, Scott interjected.

“My bike is fixed, so no worries about the ride. Thank you, for that by the way.”

“No problem. I’m sure you would do the same.” 

Scott nodded.

“I would. I’d do anything for my friends.”

A whistled sounded across the field and the two boys looked over to Finstock.

“Practice is over! Get out of here. Stilinski! Thirty minutes.”

“Yes, Coach.” 

Stiles watched as the field emptied. Everybody gathered their things, said goodbye or walked off with a group. He waved Scott off as he drove out of the parking lot on his bike. 

Stiles prepped himself for another half hour of drills. He stretched to keep himself from pulling a muscle. 

A ball landed at his feet and Stiles looked up. Jackson stood a few yards away. Swinging his lacrosse stick as if he were still throwing a ball. 

“What?” Stiles asked accusingly. 

Jackson had no reason to be there. Especially when he was such a jerk; Stiles wasn’t in the mood to deal with him. Stiles would have taken it as Jackson aiming for the team captain position if it hadn’t been for the tiny fact that Jackson hadn’t told Finstock that he was staying.

“Toss it back.”

“What?”

“The ball. Toss the ball back.”

“Why?”

“For practice.”

“Yeah, but why?”

“Because that’s how you practice.”

“No, I meant why should I pass it to you? Why are you still here? Didn’t you fill your jerk quota for the day? You know, weaseling your way into Finstock’s good graces only works if he actually knows you are here.”

Stiles didn’t move from where he sat on the ground. He watched Jackson, studying his micro expressions for any hints as to what Jackson was thinking. Stiles silently waited until Jackson spoke.

“You weren’t as bad as I said you were.” The response finally came and Stiles’ eyes widened in surprise.

“Is that an apology from Jackson Whittemore? Did I hear that correctly? I must be dying.”

Stiles watched Jackson flinch. The movement had been small and almost unnoticeable, but Stiles was learning to be hypervigilant around the possible werewolves he had been getting to know.

“What? Admitting you were apologizing too far beneath you?”

“Just shut up already and practice.”

“You’re not team captain yet.” Stiles muttered complaints and comments but stood up anyway. He grabbed his lacrosse stick off the ground where he had dropped it. He gave himself enough room from the ball to get a running start. He ran, scooped the ball up and tossed it in Jackson’s direction. Jackson caught it with ease and tossed it back. 

“I’m going to be the goalie. All you have to do, it get the ball passed me.”

“Right. You make it sound so easy.”

Jackson ran over to where the net usually was for practice and tapped his stick against the ground. 

“Come on.”

Stiles complied, but remained wary of Jackson. He continued to run the ball and toss it toward the net, testing different angles and force.

When Stiles finally got the ball past Jackson in a manner that would pass as a goal, Stiles fist bumped the air. 

“Yes!”

Stiles watched Jackson roll his eyes, and the smile on his face grew. 

After Stiles’ brief celebration, Jackson had him running drills, passing and catching. 

“How is it that someone capable of running on a lacrosse field is unable to walk across a flat surface?” Jackson asked out of the blue during one of the drills.

It took Stiles a moment to realize Jackson was referring to when he tripped earlier that day. Jackson actually believed that Stiles hadn’t intentionally slipped, that he was just that clumsy. Stiles was simultaneously upset that the people around him had no confidence in his balance skills and happy due to the fact that he had pulled it off so well. He should have majored in acting or theater. 

Stiles just shrugged in response before his brain caught up and Stiles shot back,

“How is it that someone capable of being a decent human being is seemingly unable to do just that?” 

“See you tomorrow, Stilinski.” 

Stiles watched Jackson gather his things and head off to his car before he called back his response. 

“I hope not! I have a ‘No Jackson Whittemore’ policy on Saturdays.”

Jackson didn’t even bother to acknowledge Stiles. 

Stiles drove the familiar route home and pulled into the driveway of the empty house. 

A small note and some money tacked onto the fridge told him not to wait up and to order some food. Stiles scowled at the note. As if he would give his dad a chance to sneak in some junk food to his diet. Stiles pocketed the cash.

Stiles threw together a quick meal. He piled specific portions of everything into two tupperware containers, grabbed utensils and headed back out to his jeep. 

The police station was relatively quiet when he let himself in. No one was at the front desk so Stiles headed into the back toward his father’s office. Even from afar he could tell it was empty. 

“Hey, Parish.” 

Stiles greeted the lone deputy. Parish, who had been engrossed in a report on his desk looked up at Stiles and gave him a small smile. 

“Hello, Stiles. Your dad isn’t here right now.”

“I see that. Any idea when he will be back?”

“I don’t. He is responding to a ten-sixteen.”

Domestic Problem. Stiles cringed inwardly.

“Mind if I wait in his office?”

“Not at all, go for it. Might be a while though.”

“That’s fine.” 

Stiles made his way over to the Sheriff's office and let himself in. He placed the tupperware on the desk and sat himself in a cushioned chair near the door. 

Stiles hadn’t meant to fall asleep. 

Someone was shaking his shoulder. 

“Stiles.” 

Stiles blinked his eyes opened and jerked upright in the chair. 

“Hey, bud. What in the world are you doing here?”

Stiles smiled lazily up at his dad. He was happy to see him in one piece.

“Made dinner. Thought it might be nice to eat together.”

The Sheriff followed Stiles’ gaze over to the food sitting on the desk and sighed.

“It could have been a much longer wait than it was.”

Stiles agreed. 

“Could have been. You hungry?”

“Starving.” 

Stiles joined his father closer to the desk and pulled the lids off the containers. 

They sat together, mostly in silence, and ate.   

Sometime during the food eating Stiles’ dad pulled out a case file and was mulling over it as he ate.

“What’s that?” Stiles asked casually as he removed the fork from his mouth. 

“Just an old case.”

“Yeah?”

“Alright, get the heck out of here. Only one of us needs to be pulling overtime at the station.”

Stiles slowly complied. He gathered the tupperware and his father walked him out of the office. 

“See you around, Deputy Parrish.” 

“Goodnight, Stiles.” 

Stiles glanced over at his dad.

“You don’t have to walk me to the jeep.”

“I do if I want to make sure you are actually leaving.”

Stiles tried to smother his urge to smile and nodded.

They walked the rest of the way together. 

“Alright kid, I’ll see you at home.” His father gave him a pat on his shoulder before leaving Stiles to his own devices. 

Stiles drove home in a rather happy mood. 

 

Saturday came and went uneventfully. Stiles lounged around his house in his boxers and a t-shirt playing video games, reading, and napping. It was a typical lazy Saturday. 

Scott texted Stiles a couple times at one point and they voice chatted while they played a couple video games together. 

“You suck at this.”

“So do you. Aren’t you supposed to have good reflexes and reaction times?”

Silence answered Stiles and he inwardly cursed at the slip of his tongue. His mind began scouring his subconscious for an explanation to his question. Before Stiles could say anything else, Scott replied.

“Why would I have that?”

“Dude, you are in the running for team captain. Team captain is supposed to be the best, right?”

“Oh. Yeah. I guess.”

“How is that going by the way? Has Finstock said anything about it?”

There was a pause and then an embarrassed Scott apologized over the mike. 

“Sorry, I shook my head. Forgot you couldn’t see me.” 

“No worries- Dude, you were supposed to be watching my back!”

Stiles groaned and tossed his controller onto the other side of the couch. 

“Sorry! Crap. Hold on-”

The mike went dead and Stiles leaned back against the couch and sighed. Stiles reached for the control he had tossed to the side and absentmindedly slid his fingers over the buttons and the analog sticks. A minute or so later Stiles heard Scott’s voice come back over the mike.

“Hey, sorry about that. My boss, Deaton, just called. There is an emergency at the clinic.”

“That’s fine. I understand. You do your thing.”

“Alright, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Vale.”

“What?”

“Goodbye.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Adios.” 

Stiles smiled at himself. He had remembered the Latin word for ‘goodbye’ and as far as he knew, he had pronounced it correctly.  

Stiles fell asleep on the couch watching some trash tv after he and Scott disconnected. He woke up an hour later dripping in a cold sweat. Stiles stared at his hands, counting his fingers. He didn’t know why, but he counted his fingers; twice just to make sure he was awake. Stiles didn’t remember a single thing from his dream, at least not consciously. He had read somewhere that people forget ninety-percent of their dreams when they wake up. 

He turned the tv off and heading upstairs for a shower. His shower turned cold far too quickly and Stiles crawled into his bed shivering. 

His mind flew to the thought of Sunday. He would have to cram an essay and the rest of his work for his classes. 

Stiles’ hand fell onto the little black book on his bedside table and he brought it over to where his head lay on his pillow. He opened the book sideways, awkwardly, and scanned through the pages. He shifted his position so the book was outstretched above him as he faced the ceiling. He fumbled as he turned the pages and the book slipped. It landed with a loud smack against his face. He moaned and laid there, the book still resting over his face. His hands flopped to his sides, bouncing slightly against the bed.

Eventually, Stiles removed the book from his face and placed it back on the nightstand. He switched the lights off and curled up farther into his blanket. His eyelids shut heavily, the familiar feeling of exhaustion keeping them sealed closed.  


	6. The Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles stood before her wearing one of his horrid plaid long sleeved over shirts with a black t-shirt underneath. A pair of skates hung, tied together by the shoelaces, around his neck. He gave her a small smile and shifted. Did he ever stop moving?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lydia centric chapter with Stiles interaction.  
> Comments? <3

Lydia was thankful that Derek had agreed to finding Stiles and protecting him, whether he believed her or not didn't really matter. None of them really knew how a Banshee’s power worked, and what little Lydia did know came from experience and the rare book or two. 

Lydia took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The darkness of the room had unsettled her, yet the weight of Jackson’s arm around her waist provided her with some comfort. 

The comfort didn’t seem to last long. Jackson unconsciously unwrapped himself from her and rolled to face the other side of the bed. Lydia was hit suddenly with the loss of heat across her back. She shivered and tugged the blanket closer to her chin, bringing her knees toward her chest in the same movement. 

Lydia’s eyes snapped open. She crawled out of bed carefully and made her way toward the bedroom door. Something drew her forward. Shakily, her hand landed on the door handle and pulled the door open. 

A light breeze caught her off guard. She stepped through the doorway, her feet landing on cold leaves one after the other. The trees surrounding her swayed with breeze. Her eyes were fixated on the large tree stump. The Nemeton. Her heart sank. She was dreaming. She had to be. 

Lydia neared the ancient tree. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed as empty noise seemed to fill her head. It grew louder as she approached it. 

Lydia stopped a few feet away from the tree, opening her eyes as she did. Her eyes moved from the tree trunk to the darkness on the other side of the Nemeton. In shadows a pair of eyes met hers. Lydia shivered under the gaze. It was a haunting look. A look that made a familiar feeling burn inside of her lungs. 

She took a breath and screamed.

Lydia launched herself forward from her bed. The scream still flowing from her lips. Strong arms wrapped around her. She heard a distant voice attempting to soothe her. The scream died and morphed into a sob. Tears roll down her face. Jackson ran his hand up and down her back and held her close to his chest. 

The bedroom door flew open but Lydia didn’t move. She buried her face in Jackson’s shoulder and listened to his voice as he spoke.

“It was just a dream.”

“This is starting to become a common occurrence.” Peter’s voice registered in her brain as her breathing began to steady.

“Lydia?” It was Derek’s voice this time.

Lydia pulled away slightly from Jackson, but remained relatively close to him. She wiped a tear from her cheek and glanced over at the door way. Everyone was there. Erica, Boyd, Isaac, Malia, Peter, Derek. They all stood in the doorway, watching her with concern. Though at a second glance Peter’s eyes were more curious than anything. 

Derek’s phone rang. 

“It’s Scott.” He said as he brought the phone up to his ear to answer. “She is fine. It was a nightmare- Yes- She is in good hands. How’s the human?”

Lydia perked up a bit at the last question. ‘The human,’ of course, was a reference to Stiles. 

She had met him once, when Scott introduced Stiles to herself and Malia, but had seen him on campus when she picked Scott up one day and when she visited the pack. 

“Good. Keep me updated- Yes, I will let her know.” With that, Derek hung up and turned to Lydia.

“Human is fine, Scott is with him tonight. He wanted me to tell you that he heard your scream and hopes you are okay.”

Lydia nodded in thanks but at the reminder of her scream, Lydia’s mind began racing. She had screamed, like a banshee. 

“Alright, let’s get out of here and let them sleep.” Derek chased everyone out of the bedroom. He, himself, approached her slowly and carefully. His hand landed on her head gently, before he leaned in and gave the top of her head a light kiss. It was comforting in a way that only her alpha could supply. 

“We will talk about this tomorrow.”

Lydia nodded and watched him leave.

“Are you okay?” Jackson leaned into the crook of her neck, arms still wrapped around her. 

“No, but I will be.”

They laid back down in the bed together, Jackson’s arms keeping her close. Lydia closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, taking deep calming breathes until exhaustion lulled her to sleep.  

Lydia slept dreamlessly for the rest of the night. She still woke in the morning feeling exhausted, but any thoughts of the night were currently gone from her mind. Jackson was still pressed against her back. She smiled to herself. 

When they had been together in high school, their relationship had been completely different than the one they were currently in. Jackson had been so concerned about being the best at lacrosse and she had been in her ‘pretend to be stupid’ phase. They had been through alot and she was thankful for all of it. 

Lydia peeled herself from the bed carefully so not to wake Jackson. She washed up in the bathroom before getting dressed and headed out to the hallway.

Lydia and Jackson lived in one of the many refurbished apartments in the building Derek had bought years ago. Isaac lived down the hall, as did Erica and Boyd. Lydia didn’t technically live in the building, but she stayed often enough to consider it home. 

Peter moved back to the loft from his apartment downtown months ago after Derek and he had sorted out their differences. Lydia personally thought it would be good for them both to live under the same roof again, they both needed each other whether they admitted it or not. 

Malia still lived with her human father but had brought up the idea of moving into the loft while she attended her second year of college. Scott still lived with Melissa, and showed no interest in moving out. Lydia understood that. It was much harder to be a full time student with a job these days than it used to be. 

She made her way up to the top floor where Derek’s loft was. She was only a floor down so it didn’t take very long. If he was awake, which he usually was, she knew she was there. She knocked anyway and waited for Derek to slide the door open. 

“You look terrible.” Lydia looked him up and down. He looked exhausted.

“Thanks.” Derek muttered as he turned away from her and toward the kitchen. 

“Coffee?”

“Yes, please.” 

Lydia left the door open and placed herself on one of the bar stools by the kitchen island. 

“How’d you sleep?”

“Better after.”

“That’s good. Do you want to talk about it?”

Derek handed Lydia a fresh cup of coffee, cream and sugar already stirred in. She sniffed the drink and hummed in pleasure before taking a sip.

“I don’t remember much of it. I remember waking up in the dream not knowing I was dreaming, and I remember the Nemeton.” Lydia’s forehead wrinkled in thought as she struggled to remember what had happened.

“I remember a pair of eyes but nothing about them.” She took another sip of coffee and looked up at Derek. He was leaning against the island, his own coffee resting between his hands. 

“Do you think it means something?” 

Lydia shrugged.

“It could have been just a bad dream.”

“Yeah, but a normal bad dream doesn’t make you scream like a banshee.” 

“There was that. Scott heard it?”

“Yeah. Any supernatural creature could have heard that.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Causing trouble again. I know you don’t believe me about Stiles, it’s already been two months.”

“It’s fine, Lydia. And I trust your instincts.”

Lydia let her lips pull up in a small smile. 

“Thank you.”

Derek inclined his head in a small nod. They finished their coffee in a comfortable silence. Lydia left the loft just as Isaac was dragging himself up the stairs. 

“Is there coffee?”

“Fresh.”

Lydia smiled as Isaac stumbled up the stairs to the loft. 

Lydia stopped back at her and Jackson’s apartment. She opened the door and wandered into the bedroom to retrieve her keys and jacket. Jackson was still laying in bed. He lifted his head when she walked in.

“You okay.”

“I’m better. I don’t really remember it.”

“Okay.”

Lydia crossed the room and slipped her jacket on.

“Where are you going?”

“Work.”

“It’s Sunday.”

“People work on Sunday’s you know.”

“Call in sick.”

Lydia pursed her lips in pretend thought.

“Mmm… No.”

“Are you sure you are okay?”

“Jackson, I’m fine. Really. It was just a bad dream.”

Lydia felt Jackson’s eyes on her as she played with her hair in the mirror that sat on the dresser. 

“What?”

“Did you really have to get a job?”

“I wanted to.”

“You could just be working there for no reason.”

Lydia shrugged.

“Pocket cash isn’t bad.”

“Like you need a little extra cash.”

Lydia gave Jackson a small glare.

“I just don’t see the point. You already met him. Scott and him are all buddy-buddy now. Why don’t you just ask Scott if you can hang out together sometime?”

Lydia gave Jackson a disgusted look. She was giving him quite a few looks this morning. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. The only reason you don’t like this is because I’m not currently laying in bed with you right now. Instead I’m off to meet another boy.” Lydia smirked and gave Jackson a small shoulder shrug. 

Jackson growled and Lydia turned to face her boyfriend fully. He was scowling, looking perfectly upset at the prospect of Lydia actually being with someone else. 

Lydia crawled halfway onto the bed and pressed her lips against Jackson’s. What she wasn’t expecting was for him to grab her by the waist and pull her down to him. She squealed at the quick movement and pulled away from the kiss. They lay, chests together, with Lydia on top and a wicked grin on Jackson’s face. She slapped his arm lightly and scolded him. 

“You are going to mess up my hair.”

“I could mess up a few other things too if you want.” 

Lydia followed Jackson’s gaze to her shirt and smacked him again.

“Don’t you dare. I’m going to be late.”

When she pulled away, Jackson let her. She knew he was watching her as she fixed her hair again. She paused by the bedroom door and glanced back at him. He lay on his stomach, one arm stretched out above his head and the other one laid on the bed before him, watching her. She blew him a small kiss before turning on her heels and leaving the building. 

Lydia just wanted to feel like she was doing something. Peter watched over Stiles at night during the week and on Sundays, Scott rotated watching him on Friday and Saturday with Isaac, Jackson even watched Stiles after practice on some days. 

So Lydia had done the only thing she really could do. She got a job at the ice skating rink in Beacon Hills. Scott had let her know, after the first week of tailing Stiles, that he went to the ice skating rink almost twice a week every week. She had applied on a whim and gotten the job. Despite working there for the past three weeks, she hadn’t yet seen him. She had requested a shift change in hope of running into him at a different time. 

Lydia clocked in and went about her work. This was her last shift during the day, she would be working nights and weekends starting tomorrow. She had been working as an Activities Attendant, monitoring the skating rink and providing safety guidance among other things, before the Event Coordinator had enlisted her one day for some quick help. Unsurprisingly she had impressed him and now more often than not she worked under him planning, organizing, and promoting things. She enjoyed the work, it helped occupy her mind when she wasn’t at school. 

Lydia stood off to the side of the rink, watching a couple kids learning how to skate by holding hands and hugging the wall. She had an hour or so left until she could clock out, so she watched the skaters in the rink. 

A parent stood nearby watching them and offering a hand when necessary. The other occupants were some teenagers, a couple on a date, another two families, and a few people skating on their own. 

Lydia wanted to glide on the ice like she used to when she was a kid. She hadn’t been skating in a while, and despite the discount the job provided her Lydia still hadn’t been on the ice for fun. 

“Hey. Lydia, right?”

Lydia spun around in surprise, her eyes going wide at the fact that she hadn’t heard or seen him come in. She internally scolded herself for not being aware of her surroundings.

“Hey.”

Stiles stood before her wearing one of his horrid plaid long sleeved over shirts with a black t-shirt underneath. A pair of skates hung, tied together by the shoelaces, around his neck. He gave her a small smile and shifted. Did he ever stop moving? 

“We met before. Scott introduced us.”

“I remember you, Stiles.”

“Right. What are you doing here?” It wasn’t said in a harsh way, just curious and perhaps slightly embarrassed. 

Lydia pointed to the name tag on her shirt and smiled. “I work here.”

“Since when?” Stiles’ eyes opened in surprise. 

“Three weeks ago, I think.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow. I mean, I didn’t think that-” He trailed off.

“That someone like me would need a job?”

“I didn’t mean anything-”

“It’s fine. I don’t. Need the job I mean. I wanted one.”

“Oh.”

“What are you doing here?” Lydia gestured to the skates around his neck.

“Ah. I- uh- I come here to clear my head. I’m not great or anything but it helps.”

Lydia nodded her understanding. 

“I don’t mean to sound creepy or anything but when do you get off?”

Lydia glanced down at her watch. 

“Another forty minutes or so.”

“Cool. Maybe I’ll see you again before you head out.”

Lydia nodded and watched Stiles walk over to a bench. He gave her a little wave as he stumbled toward the rink, now wearing the skates. Lydia kept herself from laughing at the sight. She watched him turn his focus to the rink. He started off slow and hugging the wall. Slowly, he moved away from it and began gliding on his own. He wasn’t terrible, although far from the best. She was itching to get on the ice, take him by hand and show him how it was done. 

She shifted on her feet, anxious for her shift to end. She continued to watch the skaters in the rink, scolding two teenagers for fooling around on the ice. She nearly ran to clock out. 

“Hey, Michael. Can I get a pair of skates please?”

Lydia gave her coworker her size and cash before finding herself a bench. She removed the sneakers she had changed into earlier that day and slid the skates onto her feet. She gracefully entered the rink, spotted Stiles and glided over to him. She slid to a stop before him, startling him as she did. He let out a yelp and she reached out to grab his hands before he fell backward. He latched onto her thankfully and only let go when he steadied himself. 

“That was mean.”

Lydia just raised an eyebrow.

“You off?”

“Yeah. Mind if I skate with you?”

“Mind? No- I don’t mind.” 

Lydia skated next to Stiles slowly, matching his pace. 

“Here, take my hand.”

“What?”

Lydia grabbed his hand and dragged him gently across the ice at a speed more appealing to her. His hand tightened around hers as she picked up the pace. 

“I take it you know how to skate.” Stiles huffed and she smiled. 

“I used to skate competitively when I was younger.”

“Really? Why did you stop?”

‘Why does anyone stop doing anything?” Lydia shrugged as she answered. She loved skating, she did, but after a while it had lost its appeal.

Lydia let go of his hand and staked in front of him, facing him. If his eyes lit up in admiration, Lydia totally didn’t bask in the attention. 

“Show off.” 

Lydia just smiled. She skated a distance away from him, did a jump spin and landed it perfectly before turning back and skating toward Stiles.

“You should teach me that.” 

“Two hundred dollars a session and you have yourself a deal.”

“You don’t have a friend discount?”

“That was with the friend discount.”

Stiles laughed lightly. Lydia liked that sound. It was genuine. Something she noticed Stiles didn’t do often. 

She held out her hand for him to take. 

“Come on.”

Stiles took her hand and Lydia dragged him around the ring, giving him the occasional pointer or two as they went. 

Lydia nearly got dragged down to the ice when Stiles lost his footing. She let go of his hand and laughed when he hit the ground. 

Lydia gave him a hand off the ground and they skated around the group of giggling children.

She hadn't even realized how much fun she had actually been having until her phone rang. 

“Hello?” 

Jackson barely let her get the words out of her mouth before he was talking again. 

_ “Where the heck are you? It’s nearly four. I thought you said your shift ended at two.” _

“Sorry, I ran into Stiles and we kinda went skating.” Lydia looked up at Stiles. He was shifting like he was uncomfortable. His fingers tugged at the hem of his shirt as he tried his best to look anywhere but at her. Lydia suppressed a smile.

_ “I thought something had happened to you. You’re with Stilinski?”  _

“Yes. I lost track of time. I’ll be heading back soon.”

She hung up and turned toward Stiles. 

“Sorry, that was Jackson.”

Stiles nodded like he had guessed who she had been talking to.

“I have to go.”

“I’ll walk you out. I should probably get going too.” 

The pair returned their skates and walked out of the building together. 

“Thank you.”

Lydia raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

“For today. Not many people who are like you would have spent the last two hours trying to give me some skating pointers.”

“People like me?”

“Don’t you have mirrors where you live?” 

Lydia laughed. 

“You’re not a bad person, Stiles.”

“Never said I was.” Stiles’ lips turned upward in a smirk. “I’ll see you around. Hopefully.” 

Lydia nodded. “Hopefully.” 

Lydia watched as Stiles neared a ratty old jeep. She listened as the jeep engine chugged to life and pull away before she got into her own car. 


	7. Shot in the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know you are out here.” Stiles kept his voice low. He didn’t know, not for sure, but it was worth a shot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My classes started last week but I will try an continue to post on Wednesdays like normal. I'm excited to post the next couple chapters and see your responses. 
> 
> Comments?

Stiles drove home from the ice skating rink with the happy thought of a new friend. He didn’t really know if Lydia would consider them friends, but as far as Stiles was concerned they were. 

He had had doubts about getting to know Scott’s friends. If Lydia wouldn’t have hung out with Stiles unless Scott was there, Stiles would have been sure that Lydia was definitely not really a friend. It hadn’t been like that though. At least not from what Stiles could tell.

Lydia had been intimidating when they first met, and after spending a couple hours with her, he was still intimidated. However, he could see that under the intimidation, she was a great person. Someone who kind of understood him and could keep up with him on an intellectual level. Nothing against Scott. Scott was a great friend, one of the only people he actual trusted, but he wasn’t someone he could discuss random physics facts with.

Stiles realized something in that moment. He did trust Scott, almost like he would a brother if he had one. It had been a couple months since they had met, but if Stiles was honest it felt like a lot longer than that. He had never felt so close to someone before; his father didn’t count. It was a nice feeling.

Lydia reminded him of the girls he went to school with when he was younger. For all he knew Lydia could have been one of those girls. The girls who held their heads high and wore designer clothes even at a young age. The ones who knew they were beautiful and could control the mood of a room by their presence alone. He hated those girls. Lydia, though she reminded him of them, seemed just a bit different than those girls.

Perhaps in another life Stiles would have considered Lydia as potential partner. He didn’t see her that way though. She was beautiful, yes, but he didn’t see her like that. Perhaps in another life. Besides, he was kind of happy to see that she was the person Jackson was with. She was a good balance for the jackass he had gotten to sort of know during lacrosse practice. 

He cringed at the thought of Jackson. At the last practice Coach Finstock had announced the team captain position. Jackson had been given the position of team captain of the lacrosse team with Scott as his second. The douche seemed like he would run Stiles harder at the next practice than Finstock ever did. Finstock probably enjoyed having someone else in charge of running the drills and what not. It gave him more time to lounge around and not do his job. Stiles remembered when Finstock used to do the same exact thing during his time on the high school lacrosse team. 

Stiles finally found the time to think about it. It hadn’t really occurred to him to think about it. He had no idea if they had at all gone to school together at some point. That’s not really something you think about when you meet people at college, is it? 

Stiles hadn’t played lacrosse his senior year so he had no idea if Jackson, Isaac, or Scott had joined the team. Danny and Jackson seemed to get along pretty well at practice and Stiles was starting to believe that the two of them were actually closer friends than they seemed. Stiles made a mental note to eventually ask Scott where he went to school before the community college. 

Stiles turned the ignition off and hopped out of his jeep. The police cruiser was in the driveway next to where he parked his jeep. He twirled his car keys around his finger and he jogged to the front door. 

“Hey, dad. I’m home!” 

“How was the skating rink?”

“Oh, you know. Cold. Slippery. Painful.”

“I don’t understand why you feel like you need to go and get yourself hurt in order to clear your head. Don’t get me wrong, I like the fact that you are going out and you know, doing teenage stuff, but really?” 

Stiles shrugged. He didn’t know why he kept going despite how much he fell. It definitely wasn’t because he liked to injure himself, that was completely unintentional. It was just a place he found to go. Stiles had started going there his first semester of college. Without lacrosse there hadn’t been much for him to do or get involved in. If he wanted to he could probably find a new place, but now he really didn’t want to. 

Stiles sat at the dinner table and watched his father move about the kitchen as he prepared dinner. Stiles removed himself from his seat and gathered two plates, utensils, and one cup from cupboards and drawers. He placed them on the table before moving toward the fridge and removing a beer and some water. He poured the water in his cup and popped the beer open for his father. 

Stiles held the plates out for his dad as the older Stilinski piled them with food. When they were both sitting and enjoying their meal Stiles cleared his throat and broke the silence. It had been a comfortable silence but Stiles had other plans. He hadn’t forgotten his most recent discovery about the world and he couldn’t deny the curious side of himself much longer. 

His dad had taught him at a young age to pay attention to detail, even the smallest of details. The Sheriff had also taught him not to act before having proof. Stiles couldn’t very well be his own witness, but perhaps the entire Beacon Hills police department could be. 

“Hey, dad?”

“What do you want?” The sheriff sighed and let the fork fall from his hand and onto the plate. It made a small clanking sound but it hadn't fallen far. 

“Why do you think I want something?” 

“Because you are asking.”

“I was just going to ask about your work.”

“Okay. Why?”

“Because I’m a caring son who wants to know about his father’s work.”

“Liar.”

“Alright, dad. Work with me here.”

“Alright, Stiles. Go ahead and ask.”

Stiles paused for dramatic effect before dragging out the ‘so,’ adding like five o’s to the word.. 

“So, dadio. Have any weird cases at work? Cases you wouldn’t solve? Repeat offenses involving poor little bunny rabbits or deer?”

“That was the worst build up to such a ridiculous question, Stiles.”

“Well?”

“No. Wait. Actually, you know what. Now that you mention it there is this one case I’m stuck on.” 

“Yeah?” Stiles straightened in his seat.

“Yeah. It involves this juvenile teenager who can’t seem to avoid getting involved where he shouldn’t be sticking his nose.”

Stiles slouched in his seat. He opened and closed his mouth multiple times, unable to find the words he wanted to say. 

“I think I’m rubbing off on you too much.” Stiles finally settled on those words. 

“I’m starting to think I didn’t rub off on you enough.” His dad just chuckled and shook his head before picking his fork back up and moving his food around on his plate. 

Stiles scowled at his father, although he couldn’t quite muster an actual scowl. He was proud of his dad for loosening up a bit more. It hadn’t gone the way he wanted to, but his dad had smiled.

Stiles stood, cleaned off his plate. Before he could head upstairs Stiles’ father stopped him.

“Stiles.”

“Yeah?”

“Why the weird questions? What did you get yourself into?”

“Nothing, dad. I haven’t done anything. I was just joking.” 

His father may have been good at integrating criminals but Stiles had learned early on how to lie to his father and Sheriff. His father nodded and Stiles went upstairs to his room. He collapsed on his bed with a sigh and smothered his face into his pillow.

He had asked his father a perfectly reasonable question. Perfectly reasonable. Maybe it was more out of tactical information gathering than actual curiosity for his father’s work but his dad didn’t know that. 

Stiles lay on his bed, he had shifted so he staring up at the ceiling, hands resting on his stomach. He huffed out a breath and closed his eyes. Stiles knew he was exhausted. He hadn’t been getting much sleep as of late. Even when he did finally fall asleep, it was a light one or one filled with bad dreams.

Stiles awoke to a noise outside of his house. It hadn’t even been that loud. If he was sleeping properly he probably wouldn’t have even woken up to it. 

Whatever it was that woke him left Stiles feeling haunted. He pulled himself out of bed and flicked apart the blinds on his window to peek outside. His eyes scanned the street, stopping as he caught the movement of a figure by the trees. 

This whole thing reminded him of one of his many nightmaric dreams.

Stiles found himself outside of his house, searching the darkness. It had gotten to be too much, the feeling of being watched. 

Stiles crept out of his room as quietly as possible, his father had turned in for the night. He took one step at a time, avoiding the creaky spots in the floor boards. He stood outside, barefoot.

“I know you are out here.” Stiles kept his voice low. He didn’t know, not for sure, but it was worth a shot. Maybe the person watching him, it there was actually someone, would make a mistake and Stiles would see it. Nothing happened. Stiles’ eyes scanned the dark, looking for anything. He should have brought his bat.

Eventually he was shifting from one foot to the other in discomfort and he gave up. He nearly ran back into the house. When he was back inside he locked the door behind him and headed quietly back up the stairs to his room. 

Stiles woke up the next morning exhausted. Not just the normal exhausted; the physical, mental, and emotional kind of exhausted. He didn’t want to move, his eyes refused to open, and his brain hurt. 

“Stiles! Get up. You are going to be late to class.”

Stiles groaned and slowly flopped out of his bed, taking his blanket to the floor with him. He sat on the floor with his back against his bed, legs still wrapped in his blanket. He rubbed the sandy crust from his eyes and yawned. He thought about staying home. Like really thought about it. He weighed the pros and cons. 

Pros. Skipping class, extra sleep, maybe he feels better. Cons. Make-up work, an absence on his record, Scott texting him obnoxiously, his father worries. 

Eventually Stiles pulled himself off the floor, stumbling as he tripped over his own blanket, and made his way to the bathroom to get cleaned up. He got dressed in jeans and one of his favorite flannel shirt and tackled the stairs two at a time. He passed the kitchen and peeked his head into the room.

“See you later, dad.”

“Be safe and have a good day, kid.”

“You too, dad!”

If Stiles wasn’t running late he would have launched into a big argument about he wasn’t a kid. He could already think of two solid arguments against it. He made it to the jeep and over to the school in record time.

Stiles dragged himself through the day. His earlier spout of energy that had propelled him out of his blanket and to the school had long since gone away. He felt awful, knew he had bags under his eyes, and still attempted to pretend nothing was wrong. He smiled, joked, and talked as he normally would despite wanting be at home in his bed, asleep. When Stiles and Scott had a free period they sat together in the library. 

Not at Stiles’ favorite table. That was his little get away space. 

They sat at one of the many tables grouped together by the front of the library. Scott was doing some reading for one of his classes while Stiles napped on the table, or at least tried to nap. 

Stiles sighed against the cool table. Scott didn’t ask him any questions, Stiles had caught Scott looking at him with concern when he glanced up from the table a few minutes ago, and he was thankful for it. He wouldn’t know what to tell Scott if he had asked. They sat together comfortably in the relatively silent library. There was the occasional page turn, shuffle, and whispered conversation in the background but Stiles found it all very comforting. He didn’t feel alone.

Stiles barely participated during lacrosse practice much to the anger of Finstock. During one of his many breaks, Stiles sat with Matt. He watched Matt stare through the eyepiece of his camera, zoom in and out, and take photos of the team. 

“Are you part of the photography club or something?” Stiles asked 

“It’s more of a hobby.”

“To be perfectly honest, it’s a bit creepy when you say it’s just a hobby.”

Matt pulled the camera away from his face and turned toward Stiles, his eyebrows scrunched together as if he had never thought of it like that. Matt wasn’t offended or aggravated by Stiles’ statement, not visibly at least. So Stiles continued his train of thought.

“You should join the photography club. You’re really good and they could probably use someone like you.”

“Maybe.”

Why Matt had chosen to use the lacrosse team to practice photography, Stiles didn’t know. He didn’t even really mind it. Matt let Stiles talk his ear off when he was there. Scott let him do the samething, but it was nice to be able to do it with other people too.

Stiles was never one to have many friends. He was alone for the most part of his elementary and middle school career. It wasn’t until high school that he had found a few people willing to put up with him. The list was short, mostly consisting of Danny, Matt, and a few other lacrosse teammates, but Stiles found more value in the rare, real relationships he had with these few people over the quantity of fake relationships he could have with other people.

Stiles’ eyes scanned the field and surrounding area. Finstock and Jackson had given up twenty minutes ago on trying to get Stiles to participate. Not even Scott could really convince him to join in.

Stiles’ eyes fell on the incoming vehicles. He watched the cruiser pull into the school parking lot. He recognized his father immediately. He looked from where Finstock was, arms crossed and brooding, to where his father was getting out of the car. Stiles pushed himself off the ground and jogged over to his dad just as another cruiser pulled in behind his dad’s. 

“Hey, dad.” Stiles scrunched his eyebrows together in an unspoken question.

“Sorry kid, here on business.” 

“What’s going on?” 

Stiles glanced over at the field. The rest of the team seemed to have noticed the new police presence. Scott had his head tilted down in concentration. Stiles rolled his eyes before turning back to his dad. Sheriff Stilinski was watching him carefully. 

“Official police business.”

“Yes, I get that. What business?” 

Stiles’ dad sighed. 

“Just go be a kid for a bit, Stiles.”

“Dad. You are on my campus. On official police business. I don’t think it’s the best time to be a kid.” Then as an afterthought and a little tilt of his head Stiles added, “Especially since it’s a bit difficult to become a baby goat when you are physically, mentally, and emotionally human.”

The Sheriff gave him a look.

“Don’t be a smart ass.”

“Dad, come on. Tell me.” Stiles spoke a little more urgently. 

His dad sighed again, glanced back at the deputy stepping out of the car that had just pulled in, and then turned back to Stiles,

“We’ll talk at home.”

He gave Stiles’ shoulder a squeeze before turning away. Stiles raised his arms upward before letting them fall back to his sides. He turned back to the field. He thought about going back and sitting next to Matt but the guy had disappeared.

“What was that about?”

Scott had maneuvered his way over to Stiles. 

“Official police business.” 

They dropped the conversation and Scott convinced Stiles to join in on some of the drills. Stiles knew that Scott’s curiosity and concern could only be contained for so long. So when Scott finally asked Stiles the question he had been holding onto all day, Stiles wasn’t surprised.

“You okay? You seem a little off today.”

“I’m fine. Just feeling a bit under the weather.”

“Maybe you should just head home early.”

“The day is almost over. I don’t think another half hour will change anything.”

Stiles pushed through to the end of practice.

When Stiles got home he ran up to his room and straight for his computer. Stiles entered a few algorithms, hiding his IP address and ensuring his presence was undetectable to anyone who wasn’t searching, and access to his father’s police scanner and radio popped up. He plugged his headset into his laptop and listened in.

A few minutes later Stiles pulled open one of the bags of chips from his hidden stash and leaned back in his chair. Sitting around doing nothing made him bored and hungry but his curiosity prevented him from doing anything else with his time. 

Nothing really happened. A 10-52 (ambulance needed), a 10-37 (suspicious vehicle), two 10-28’s (check for vehicle registration), and a 10-22 (dog case). Stiles sighed and shut the program down after a couple hours. He would just have to wait until his father got home to ask him about it. He moved from his room to the living room downstairs. 

Stiles waited patiently. As patiently as he could. He sat on the couch, tapping his fingers against his thighs, waiting. He nearly jumped out of his own skin when his phone went off. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, kid. Gonna be late today. Don’t wait up.”

“Alright.”

Stiles sighed and slumped back against the couch. 

Stiles hated sitting alone in silence. It gave his brain a chance to think and reflect about things he generally didn’t enjoy. The past few weeks had been weird. Stiles had stumbled across the existence of supernatural creatures, werewolves at least. The existence of werewolves led to questions of whether or not vampires existed. They were supposed to be like- sworn enemies or something, right? What else was out there?  

All of that raised the question of whether or not Stiles was going crazy and adding things to where there was nothing. He wished there was someone to actually ask questions or talk to about this. Someone who wouldn’t think he was crazy or belonged in Eichen House. Someone like Scott, but not Scott because there was no way he could talk to Scott about this if there was a chance he was wrong. 

Then there was the feeling of constantly being watched, something his overactive mind probably amplified. 

That feeling was currently itching at the back of his mind. Stiles peeled himself off the couch and toward the front door. When he opened the door he was greeted by darkness. He hadn't realized how late it had gotten. His eyes scanned the dark. A figure caught his attention. His front was turned away from Stiles, but Stiles would have recognized him anywhere. 

“Scott?”

Stiles stepped out of his doorway, down the steps and into the street. He stood only a couple yards away from his friend. 

Seeing Scott there confused Stiles. He hadn’t told Scott where he lived and as much as they hung out online playing video games, Scott had never been over to Stiles’ house. Stiles had told Scott that he didn’t live to far away from Scott when he dropped Scott off home for the first time, but never gave him an address. Scott couldn’t have just made a guess could he? Maybe Scott had recognized Stiles’ jeep. It was a very obvious thing.

Stiles watched Scott freeze from his animated conversation with the darkness before he turned to face him. Scott looked mortified by Stiles’ discovery of him. Stiles thought Scott was supposed to be able to hear him coming from a mile away. How could he think this person was a werewolf?

“What are you doing here, Scott?”

Scott’s eyes shifted from Stiles to something over Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles watched Scott’s eyes go wide with panic. Something in Stiles’ gut twisted uncomfortably. 

“Wait- Peter! No!” 

Stiles barely made it eighty-degrees to his left before a sharp pain on the back of his head sent him to the ground. There was pain, then darkness. Stiles’ world went out like the flick of a light switch.


	8. Being vague doesn't help anyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek ate his food and cleaned up after himself. He tossed away the food containers and washed his hands. Derek settled back on his bed, his legs outstretched in front of him and crossed, with the book in hand. He wanted to keep reading.
> 
> Derek wasn’t expecting a call from Scott. It was a school night. Besides, Scott never called. It was odd seeing Scott’s name on the caller ID. Scott wouldn’t call just to be social.
> 
> He wouldn’t call unless it was an emergency.

Derek spent most of his day reading. It was one of those rare days where he would relax and do as he please. Isaac, Scott, Jackson, Lydia, and Malia were at school. Erica and Boyd had taken the day off to work. Derek knew he should probably get on the two of them to focus on their studies but he couldn’t bring himself to stop them from skipping, especially since they didn’t do it that often. 

The book in Derek’s hands was an old one, a family heirloom. It had been tucked away safely in the Hale vault, avoiding the fate of many other books from the Hale collection. Not much of anything had survived the fire. 

Derek found himself admiring family heirlooms less and less as time past after the fire. That didn’t mean he was over the fire and death of his family, that he didn’t constantly miss them. Because he did. Derek just found less time to admire such things. When he got the chance, like now, Derek took his time and appreciated every detail. 

When he had first pulled the book out of the vault, Derek had ran his hands down the spine and across the pages of the old book. It didn’t matter what the book was about, he just wanted to read it. It made him feel closer to his family. 

The loft was quiet. Most of the time it was an eery silence that only reminded him of how alone he was. Right now though, in this rare moment, Derek was comfortable in the empty loft. The silence didn’t haunt him or make him feel uncomfortable. 

He flipped the page of the book, he was almost halfway through it, and glanced over to his phone. When he touched it, the screen lit up with the time. It had gotten late without him even realizing it. The Pack hadn’t intruded, probably because it was in the middle of the week and they all had school. Well, Peter was supposed to be babysitting the human. 

Derek himself hadn’t taken a shift, mostly because he didn’t want to spend the night outside of a stranger’s house. He was hoping this thing would just blow over and no one would get hurt. He didn’t want to repeat what happened with the Alpha pack and Jennifer Blake. Boyd and Erica had almost died during that time. Derek had almost killed Boyd. 

Derek shook away the thought. His pack was alive and safe and that was how he wanted to keep it. He didn’t need an outsider interfering with his quiet system. Their pack. His family. 

Derek placed the book on his bed and headed toward the bathroom, stripping off his shirt and dropping it to the floor as he went. He turned the shower on before stripping completely down and hopping in. He tried to shut his brain off as he showered. He didn’t want to think about anything but the harder he tried not to think, the more he thought. It was aggravating. 

After his quick shower, Derek changed back into jeans and a black henley. He was hungry but had no intention of actually taking the time and cooking anything so take-out would have to do. Derek shrugged on his leather jacket and slipped on his shoes before grabbing his keys and wallet. 

Derek drove down to a local chinese restaurant and ordered to go. He never stayed home and ordered in, mainly because he didn’t really want people to know where he lived and partially because he knew no one wanted to be the person who had to deliver to an abandoned-looking building. Derek had considered reburbishing the old building and renting it out to tenants but he didn’t want to be responsible for so many human lives. His mind went back to the Alphas. He was pulled from his thoughts when his order was called.

Derek resisted the urge to eat the food in his car and drove back to his loft. When he finally reached the loft, Derek pulled out the food and settled on the couch, his feet on the coffee table in front of him. He munched on his food and stared at the empty wall across the room from where he was sat. Staring at the boring wall made him think about getting an entertainment system. 

The loft had gone from the bare minimum, basically just a bed, to a full leather couch, two cushioned chairs, a bookshelf, a night table by his bed, and a coffee table. They had taken down the left wall and built a kitchen in the adjoining room. His bed remained in the far right corner closest to the large stationary window that took over the wall across from the door. The brick wall with the giant hole that adjoined the wall Derek had been staring at remained. Despite the amount of complaining, he had refrained from buying an entertainment system. He knew the minute he got one of those he would never be able to get the pack out of his loft. 

Derek had thought about fixing the brick wall up or turning it into an actual bedroom but he couldn’t motivate himself enough to do it. If he sealed the brick wall he wouldn’t have access to the bathroom and would have to build a new one. He still couldn’t motivate himself. He really didn’t need much, hadn’t even really wanted to build the kitchen but Peter had insisted with the Pack slowly growing and all.

Derek ate his food and cleaned up after himself. He tossed away the food containers and washed his hands. Derek settled back on his bed, his legs outstretched in front of him and crossed, with the book in hand. He wanted to keep reading. 

Derek wasn’t expecting a call from Scott. It was a school night. Besides, Scott never called. It was odd seeing Scott’s name on the caller ID. Scott wouldn’t call just to be social.

He wouldn’t call unless it was an emergency. 

Derek quickly accepted the call and put the phone by his ear. Before he could say anything, Scott jumped at the chance to speak. 

“Derek!” The urgency in Scott’s voice had Derek placing the book that sat in his lap on a nearby night table. He scooted forward in his bed, legs bent over the side as he got ready to get up and rush to Scott’s aid.

“Scott, what’s wrong?”

“You’re not gonna like this.”

“Being vague doesn’t help anyone, Scott.” Derek struggled to keep the rising growl from escaping his lips.

“We are on our way back and we are bringing Stiles.”

“What?” Derek shot up from his seat and began pacing the room. “We? What happened, Scott?” Why was this happening? What had happened? 

“Yeah. Peter may have-” Derek’s hearing easily picked up on Peter in the background complaining about being thrown under the bus and the lack of trust. Scott was with Peter. Why was Scott with Peter?

Scott shouted at Peter to shut up and Derek had to pull the phone away from his ear for a moment. 

“Scott?”

“Sorry.”

“What were you even doing there?”

“I- uh- I was-”

“Okay. It doesn’t really matter. Tell me what happened. What is going on?”

“We’re- uh- kidnapping Stiles.” Scott coughed uncomfortably as Derek processed what he said. 

“You- This wasn’t part of the plan. We shut this idea down. Don’t you remember that?”

“Of course I remember it. It wasn’t on purpose. Stiles kind of snuck up on me and then Peter launched into action before thinking.”

“How did a human sneak up on you? You are a werewolf, Scott. A werewolf.”

“I was distracted.”

Derek could tell by Scott’s voice that he was flushed with embarrassment. Derek didn’t even bother responding. He ended the call abruptly and ran his hand down his face. It was too late to have to deal with this. He was not in the mood to deal with this. 

After a moment of thought, Derek shot a text to Isaac letting him know about the situation and gave his beta instructions to gather the pack and have them meet him in the loft. He knew the majority of the pack was in the building, most of them were probably procrastinating any sort of class assignments they may have or already asleep. 

Five minutes later and Isaac, Jackson, Malia, Erica, and Boyd were sitting in his loft. 

“This better be important. My beauty sleep is important to my complexion.” Erica had grumbled as Boyd dragged her into the loft. When they were inside Boyd guided her toward the couch and was whispering into her ear. Derek didn’t have to listen in to know Boyd was telling her about the kidnapping. Her eyes had snapped open with a mischievous glint. 

Lydia had texted that she was on her way. She had planned on spending the week on her college campus in her dorm and would have been back that weekend if things had gone as things had been expected to. 

Lydia had arrived ten minutes after Isaac texted her. Derek was sure that she had sped there but didn’t mention it. This wasn’t the time to scold Lydia, who was quite a good driver, about speeding. He was about to have a complete stranger in his loft. 

Boyd and Erica were hogging the couch, Isaac was slouching in one of the chairs, Jackson had taken over the other, Lydia was pacing the room, and Malia sat on the spiral staircase. She was starting to take after her father, Derek’s uncle, in the small ways and Derek hoped it was only in the small ways. 

They all waited together for Scott and Peter to arrive.

This was it. They were about to expose a human to the supernatural. They had kidnapped a human. Derek hope the human wouldn’t scream; screaming humans weren’t something Derek enjoyed. Derek dragged his hand down his face.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Isaac was now pacing the room, having switched places with Lydia. This had to be the fourth or fifth time he asked that. Jackson groaned but no one really responded.  

It was another ten minutes before Derek heard a car engine purr into park and turn off. Scott and Peter were back. No one made a move to get up and greet them, mostly because Derek didn’t. He remained where he was, leaning against one of the wooden support beams. Scott threw the door open and stepped into the loft followed shortly after by Peter. 

Peter was carrying the human. He wasn’t what Derek had been expecting, but then again Derek didn’t really know what he had been expecting.

“He’s heavier than he looks.” Mumbled Peter as he made his way farther into the loft. 

The form in Peter’s arms was unconscious. The boy- man- in Peter’s arms did look scrawny and very human. Derek couldn’t imagine him weighing much. The human’s long arms dangled helplessly at his sides, his hair was disheveled, and despite all the manhandling he looked rather peaceful. 

Derek inhaled, catching the smell of woods and rain. The scent mixed in the air with the smell of his pack. It wasn’t a terrible thing, and perhaps that is what had Derek on edge.

Erica and Boyd wordlessly removed themselves from the couch as Peter neared and Peter placed the unconscious human in the area they vacated. 

Peter huffed and pulled away.

“This is him? This is Stiles?” Erica’s voice pitched upwards in surprise.

In that moment Derek was glad that he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t met or seen this kid before. Erica hadn’t been given the chance and Derek knew she would say exactly what was on both their minds. 

“I don’t know. I imagined someone more like- More like Jackson or something.” 

Jackson scoffed.

“Stiles is nothing like me.”

Seeing how annoyed Jackson became at the thought, Erica pushed it. Derek watched the playful spark in her eyes glisten and her lips twitched into a half smile.

“I don’t know. You kind of style your hair the same way. You both wear plaid. I bet you two have a lot more in common than you think.”

Jackson growled.

“Enough. Peter, What did you do?”

“I fixed a problem.”

“You guys remember his father is the Sheriff, right? What if he goes home and finds that his son isn’t there?” Derek looked up at Scott as he spoke. Scott had a point. This had been a terrible idea.

Peter’s movements in the corner of Derek’s eye catch his attention. Peter was moving back toward Stiles, bending down to the level of the couch and reaching for the human’s pockets.

“What are you doing?” Scott asked, panic almost pouring into his words.

“Fixing another problem.” Peter’s simple reply filled the room. 

Derek caught Isaac glancing in his direction for guidance on how to deal with all of this. Derek wished he could provide his with comfort but he had no idea how to handle this himself.  At some point in the few seconds it took for Peter to pat down the unconscious human on Derek’s couch, each member of his pack had glanced over at him. Derek pretended not to notice.

Peter produced Stiles’ phone from his pocket and clicked the home button.

“Anyone happen to know his passcode?” Peter raised his eyebrows and looked around the room. “No? Okay.” 

Derek watched as Peter reached over to grab the unconscious boy’s hand. Peter holds each finger against the home button. It buzzed in protest until the third finger Peter tried. 

Peter got lucky with the middle finger and the phone unlocked. 

“There we go. Oh that’s a cute photo. Do you think that’s his mom?” Peter stood and walked a few feet away from the couch, finger sliding across the screen.

“What are you doing?” Scott made his way over to Peter and watched as Peter’s fingers slid across the phone screen. 

“Texting.”

“Who?” Erica seemed to perk up at the idea of invading Stiles’ privacy. Derek, however, didn’t. It was a good idea, what Peter was doing, but Derek didn’t like that they even had to do it in the first place.

“Uh- ‘Dadio’ apparently.” Peter responded distractedly.

“What are you typing?” Malia asked as she pulled herself off the stairs.

Derek remained against the column as the younger pack members seemed to migrate over to Peter to read the text over his shoulder. 

Peter read the text out as he typed it before sending it.

“Hanging with Scott tonight.”

Scott seemed to groan. If anything happened to Stiles tonight, Scot would be the first person the Sheriff would investigate.

The room was silent as they waited for a reply. No one spoke as they waited for the phone to go off. It vibrated against Peter’s hand. 

“It’s a school night, Stiles.” Peter read the reply.

“Now what?” Scott asked. 

“Tell him they are working on a project or something and will try not to stay out late.” Lydia said after a moment of silence.

Peter nodded as he typed out the response. The Sheriff only responded with one word.

“Stiles.” Peter read again when the phone vibrated.

“What would he say in response?” 

Derek followed Scott’s eyes over to the prone figure lying on his couch. 

“You know him better than us, nitwit.” 

Lydia smacked Jackson’s arm lightly. 

“What? It’s true.” 

“Just look through his older texts.” Erica reached over Peter’s shoulder and began scrolling through the text messages.

“This feels very invasive and illegal. I don’t like this.” Scott muttered backing away a bit to separate himself from the group. 

“That’s because it is.” Boyd had been silent until now. Derek glanced over to his direction. After vacating the couch. Boyd had moved to one of the chairs and hadn’t bothered to get up to read over Peter’s shoulder.

“Oooh, write, ‘Father.’” 

“That’s it? That’s your big contribution?” Peter looked disbelievingly over at Malia who shrugged in response. “Anyone got anything better?” He glanced around the room before finally landing on Derek. Derek didn’t like that look. He didn’t want to be a part of this. Instead of giving an answer, Derek just glared.

“Derek. Thoughts?”

“Peter.”

“Alright. How about… ‘May I remind you I’m over eighteen?’” Peter looked up, eyebrows scrunched together. “He is over eighteen right?” 

Scott nodded from where he stood by the couch. 

“Yeah he is nineteen. Almost twenty.” 

“I cannot believe this is happening.” Isaac groaned.

Derek looked up in time to see Isaac cover his face with his hands and go back to pacing the room. He could see the anxiety clearly in Isaac’s features.  

“Oh look, a response. ‘Just be smart and safe, kid.’ Problem solved.” Peter tossed the phone at the prone figure on the couch. Stiles didn’t stir, even as the phone landed on his chest with a thud. 

Derek had pushed himself off the column when Peter tossed the phone. He was prepared for the human to wake up in panic. When he didn’t, Derek leaned back against the wood and turned to Peter. 

“Someone explain to me what the hell happened. Why is the human-”

“Stiles. He had a name.” 

Derek shot Lydia a look. She glared at him in turn. 

“Why is Stiles in my loft?” Derek nearly growled, turning back towards Peter.

“Peter knocked him out.” Scott supplied quickly.

“In my defence, he came out of the house and spotted Scott. It’s not my fault Scott is a terrible werewolf.”

“You didn’t have to knock him out! I could have come up with an excuse or lie about being there.” 

“Excuse me if I don’t trust your ability to form cohesive sentences under pressure. Need I remind you, you are a terrible liar.” 

Derek let out a groan. The bickering continued despite how much Derek hoped it would stop. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wood.

“I am not a terrible liar!” Scott.

“You totally are.” Jackson.

“You have a tell.” Lydia.

“Shut up.” Scott again. 

“Alright, alright. Enough. You are getting off track.” Boyd. Oh thank god for Boyd. He was more often than not the reasonable one of the group. Quiet but always watching and listening. Boyd reminded Derek a lot of himself. 

“We need to decide what we want to do. Derek?”

Derek opened his eyes and surveyed his Pack. They were all looking at him. 

Derek hadn’t wanted to be Alpha. He would have been perfectly satisfied as Laura’s beta. He could have easily lived his life following her orders. Laura had been the one training for the position. It had come so naturally for her. The thought of her made his heart ache. He shot Peter a glare. It didn’t matter that Peter didn’t know why Derek was really glaring at him, it just made Derek feel a little better. He had killed Peter for killing Laura. Peter had then found a way to come back, and Derek had slowly learned to work with his uncle. He couldn’t forgive Peter for killing Laura, not completely, but he tried not think about it too much now. 

Derek needed Peter in his Pack. He was more experienced and knowledgeable than Derek was. Besides, it was better to have Peter as an ally than an enemy. He had seen Peter at his worst. He had no intention of being on the receiving end of that anymore. Peter and Derek didn’t always get along but they made a good team the majority of the time. 

Derek was slowly learning to be a good Alpha. He had screwed it up with Jackson, who in turn went around as a Kanima for a while before dying and becoming an actual werewolf. He had also had a rough start with Isaac, Erica, and Boyd. It wasn’t until Scott came along, despite having been bit by Peter, that Derek started to get his act together. After Scott, Malia had fallen into place with the Pack. She had done wonders for Peter. Peter continued to be an asshole, but he was less of a maniac killer. 

“He is here. There isn’t much we can do about that now. He will eventually wake up and Scott will tell him everything.”

“Me? Why me?”

“You’re his friend.” 

Scott nodded his understanding and Derek turned to Peter.

“And you-”

“Why are you looking at me like this is my fault?”

“Because it is your fault.”

“Yeah, your probably right.”

Derek growled at Peter. 

A sharp intake of breathe caught Derek’s attention. He turned toward the couch. The figure on the couch was starting to move around. Everyone else seemed to have noticed it as well. 

If a pin were to fall and hit the ground, it would easily be heard and not just because they were werewolves. An erratic heartbeat that reminded Derek of a rabbit filled his ears. Everyone’s focus was glued to the couch and the person laying on it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the cliffhangers! They were unintentional. I was just trying to separate the chapters by pov. I don't intend on having any other cliffhangers in the near future. 
> 
> I love seeing comments! They make my heart all warm and inspires me to write more. Please leave more comments with your thoughts, questions, theories, whatever you want to share! :D <3


	9. Rapta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thought of dying had never been his concern, but when someone else told him he was dying, Stiles’ heart sank. His mind went to his mother lying in the hospital bed then to his father who was constantly in the line of danger. His own death, though it scared him, had never crossed his mind as an actual worry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday!! I'm officially 19.   
> I wanted to give you guys a small present for my birthday. Another chapter! Yay! I hope you like it.  
> Please leave comments! I love comments. I'm absolutely one of those authors who need validation for their work.

“Why are you looking at me like this is my fault?”

“Because it is your fault.”

“Yeah, your probably right.”

There was a growl. An actual growl. Was there a dog in the room?

Stiles was just beginning to come to. His head hurt and it took a minute for him to focus on the sound and voices around him. He could barely make out the words he was hearing. He knew what the words were but he couldn’t quite understand them as they were used.

He was laying on something warm and cushioned. Stiles figured out it was a couch relatively quickly. His fingers slid across the surface of the couch as he flexed his fingers to make sure he had all of them. The couch was definetly leather. 

Stiles had just been kidnapped. And he was laying on a leather couch. The thought that went through his head caused his heart to beat erratically. 

Was he about to be sold as a sex slave? Had he stumbled on an underground human trafficking group? 

Stiles let out a groan.

Human trafficking werewolves. Now that was an odd thought. 

“Stiles?”

Stiles recognized Scott’s voice instantly. His eyes shot open and he launched forward into a sitting position. Something moved from where it sat on his stomach to somewhere else on the couch. He didn’t think much of the object. He didn’t have time to.

Stiles immediately regretted the movement. A sharp pain shot through his head and neck. His hand threw to the back of his neck and he squeezed his eyes shut as he waited to the pain to pass. 

The feeling of someone's hand on his arm pulled Stiles away from his pain. He jumped away from the touch, flailing his arms as he fell off of the couch. Scott was kneeling by the couch, a shocked and very much surprised expression on his face. Stiles didn’t really care though. The last time someone had touched him he had been knocked out.

“I’m just trying to help.” 

“Help how?” Stiles asked skeptically. 

“I can- You just look like you are in pain.”

“So?”

“So? I can- nevermind. Here, let me help you up.” 

Stiles shook his head and pushed himself farther away from the couch, sliding across the ground unceremoniously. The gravity or the situation hitting him as he sat there.

“Stiles-”

“You kidnapped me! What the hell, Scott?” 

“That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Stiles scoffed. 

Someone else cleared their throat and Stiles glanced around the room. There were other people. In the room. With him and Scott. He recognized Lydia, Jackson, Malia, and Isaac immediately.

“Please tell me what is going on, Scott. Please just tell me you aren’t part of a human trafficking ring and I’m not about to be shipped half-way around the world-”

“What? No! Stiles, what the hell?”

“Oh thank god.” 

Stiles collapsed backward onto the floor. His head still hurt.

“Stiles?”

“Just give me a few moments to clear my head before you kill me.”

Stiles’ mind was running around in circles. It hurt to think but that never stopped his over attentive and hyperactive mind. Stiles had come to the conclusion that death was probably better than sex-trafficking anyway. Probably.

“Why would we kill you?” 

Stiles shrugged. His shoulders slid against the ground uncomfortably.

“I don’t know. I don’t find myself kidnapping people on a daily basis.”

“I don’t do this on a daily basis.” Scott said defensively. 

“Could have fooled me.”

“Stiles. Please just get off the floor and talk to me.” 

Stiles sat up with an exasperated sigh. He knew he was being a little bit ridiculous, with the sighing and the unavoidable thoughts of Scott, his friend, killing him and burying him in the woods and his father finding his body and-. Stiles tried to stop himself from thinking too much. 

“Alright, Scott. Tell me, where am I?”

Stiles watched Scott turn to look at the attractive brooking dark haired guy, who shook his head in response to some unspoken question. Scott turned back to Stiles and Stiles rolled his eyes. Scott was doing his apology face. The stupid face that Stiles thought was adorable and annoying at the same time. The face that said ‘I’m sorry. I want to tell you but can’t.’

“Okay, fine. What do you want? Why was I knocked out? Why am I here? What the hell do you people want from me?” Stiles’ voice began to rise as he progressed through his questions. He was terrified. 

Scott offered Stiles his hand, which Stiles ignored as he stood on his own. 

“Well.” Stiles crossed his arms across his chest to keep his hands from shaking.

“Can you just please sit down. It will be easier to talk to you that way. Please, Stiles.” Scott added the last bit after Stiles raised his eyebrows at him. 

Stiles raised his hands in defeat, not putting them down, and moved back toward the couch. He glanced around the room, all eyes were on him. It made him feel uncomfortable. 

“Is this like an orgy thing? Because as much as much as I want to say I am all into that, I’m really not. Especially if the foreplay includes kidnapping unsuspecting bystanders from their houses.”

“Technically, you weren’t in your house.” Stiles’ attacker mumbled under his breath just loud enough for Stiles to catch it. 

“Shut up, Peter.” 

So his attacker’s name was Peter. Now that he thought about it, and thinking about it hurt, Scott had said that name outside of his house. Peter. What a douchy name. What a douchy werewolf. 

“Alright, Scott. I’m sitting. Now talk.”

Stiles didn’t lean back against the couch. He thought about it. Thought about pretending not to be horrified and scared about being attacked and kidnapped.

“I didn’t want to get you involved, not yet at least. I- we- Alright I don’t know how to say this. Look, Peter shouldn’t have hit you, shouldn’t have knocked you out like that. I’m sorry. This isn’t how I wanted to have this conversation. I’m a werewolf. We all are- well, Lydia isn’t, she is a Banshee, and Jackson used to be a Kanima but yeah he is a werewolf now. We shift, not full shift- Derek can do a full shift but that’s not the point. Look, Stiles. I know this is all crazy. If I was in your place I wouldn’t believe a word I said either.” Scott was rambling. He wanted Stiles to understand, Stiles knew that. Scott had glanced at the talk, dark, hazel-eyed man who hadn’t said a thing since Stiles had woken up when he said the name ‘Derek’. 

Stiles waited a beat before answering. Scott had just admitted to the thing Stiles was trying to convince himself he was crazy for thinking. It had been something he already knew. He believed in the supernatural, he did, but Stiles was half hoping he was wrong. 

What was new information, was that Lydia was not a werewolf. Not that Stiles had thought she was, she looked too delicate for that. No. Delicate wasn’t the word. Lydia was intimidating but she didn’t scream werewolf like Scott did. He actually hadn’t thought about her being a supernatural creature at all really. Banshee. He would have to look that up if he lived through this. They screamed a lot, right? And what the heck was a Kanima? 

Stiles could probably fake surprise if he wanted to. He could pretend he didn’t know. It would be easy considering he would only be half faking it. That would probably make Scott feel better. Right now though, Stiles just wanted to see Scott squirm.

“Okay” Stiles replied nonchalantly. 

“Okay?” Scott’s eyebrows shot upward farther than should be physically possible.

“Yeah.” Stiles shrugged, a small smirk tugging at his lips. Stiles leaned back against the couch. He tried to relax. Werewolves were supposed to be able to smell fear and emotions and things so the least Stiles could do was pretend he wasn’t afraid. He plastered his face with an emotionless mask. 

“That’s it?” Scott asked.

“What else did you want me to say?” He wondered what kind of outburst Scott had been expecting. Disbelief, sure. Maybe anger or a demand for proof? Probably sarcasm and wit. Those were Stiles’ usual go-to emotion hiders. He could still demand proof if he wanted. That would be cool. He wanted to see the shift. Stiles shut down his curious side. He was supposed to be upset with Scott for kidnapping him. 

“I- I don’t know. I just figured you would be yelling, denying it, calling me crazy, or running away or something.” That answered his earlier thought.

“You watch too many cheesy television shows.” Stiles’ lips quirked up in a lopsided grin. Stiles couldn’t stop himself. He had never been good at hiding his emotions. “Besides, I kind of already knew.”

“You- what?”

“Yeah. I saw some pictures Matt took during practice and the flare where your eyes should be spiked my curiosity. Did a bit of research. Come on though, it’s not actually that hard to figure it out. Once you know what you are looking for it kind of screams at you in a very obvious, direct way.”

Scott had been stunned into silence. 

“Alright, so he knows. Move on, Scott.” Stiles turned toward the voice that made his skin crawl. The man was sat on the spiral staircase, looking like he would rather be anywhere else but in the loft at that moment. Peter.

To spite Peter’s urge to hurry on, Stiles let his curiosity contribute. It was only to spite Peter though. Not because he just really wanted to ask a bunch of questions. 

“Actually, I do have a couple questions. Werewolves exist, right, so do vampires exist? Fairies? And why the hell am I here?”

“That’s just ridiculous. Vampires? Really?” Peter was the one to speak first.

Where was this place anyway? It looked like an abandoned factory or apartment. Stiles did a quick look around the room as he replied.

“Come on. It’s not that far fetched. Werewolves are like the dogs of supernatural and where there are dogs there are cats. Vampires are the cats of the supernatural.”

“What?”

“Fangs, claws of death? Cats nocturnal nature, always looking like they want to kill the nearest human and all. Totally vampires. It would also explain why vampires and werewolves never get along in films and books. Cats versus dogs.” 

The blonde girl tried to muffle her laughter before she began to outright cackle. Stiles figured that was Erica, one of the people Scott had wanted Stiles to meet. He assumed the other guy he didn’t know in the room was Boyd. Stiles now knew the names and faces of everyone in the room. When his father finally found him he could easily identify his kidnappers.

Stiles raised an eyebrow in her direction before turning back to Scott who had his jaw open and eyebrows scrunched together.

“I can’t do this. This is ridiculous.” 

“If werewolves, banshees, and- what were those things? Kanimas? If they exist, why can’t vampires?”

“Because that’s just ridiculous.” The brooding guy spoke. His voice was deep and gravely and- Stiles turned to Scott ready to argue his point. 

“Alright, enough. Get back on topic please.” Gloomy face- Derek, Stiles reminded himself- growled. He literally growled. Gloomy face wasn’t a very good nickname. In Stiles’ defence, if anyone were to criticize his inability to function at a normal capacity, he would remind everyone that he had been knocked over the head and kidnapped.

“Apologies. Please, carry on not explaining why the hell I am here.” Stiles crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Lydia is a banshee, she senses death.” The girl, Erica, chipped in rather quickly.  

Stiles raised his eyebrows to convey his question of what this had to do with him. 

“She had a dream about you.” Scott supplied as if that answered Stiles’ question.

“Was it a kinky dream?” Stiles couldn’t help himself. “Was I being my most impressive and attractive self? Did I-”

“You were struggling to breathe.”

Lydia’s quiet and ominous tone broke Stiles from his playful and mildly inappropriate rant. He fell silent and turned toward her. She wouldn’t make eye contact with him. The lack of eye contact made him uneasy.

“You couldn’t breathe, and you were alone.”

“That’s every other Tuesday for me.” Stiles joked. Mostly joked. Nobody laughed and Scott had shot him a sad look.

Her eyes snapped up to his. She seemed to be studying him. Stiles changed his mind. He liked this conversation better without eye contact. 

“You were dying.”

The thought of dying had never been his concern, but when someone else told him he was dying, Stiles’ heart sank. His mind went to his mother lying in the hospital bed then to his father who was constantly in the line of danger. His own death, though it scared him, had never crossed his mind as an actual worry. 

Yet, here stood a girl he barely knew, but liked and had been joyed to be in the presence of at the ice skating rink, telling him that she had seen his death. There were probably millions of people in the world who wanted to know how they would die so they could try to prolong their lives and avoid death. Stiles had never thought about it and in normal circumstances he wouldn’t have given it a second thought. But Lydia was a Banshee who apparently had the power to sense death. Had sensed his death. He didn’t know what being a Banshee meant or how serious he should take her. If she was willing to divulge information, he wasn’t going to turn her away.

“Describe it to me.” Stiles’ face was devoid of any emotion, his voice completely serious. At least, he hoped it was. He was trying his best to contain himself.

“You were alone- I don’t know where, everything was blurring together.” 

Stiles leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands supporting his chin, listening as she talked. Lydia paused, as if trying to remember it. 

So it hadn’t been recent.

“You couldn’t focus on anything. Everything hurt, your heart was racing, you were shaking, your vision spotted. You-”

“Were having a panic attack.” Stiles provided for her. He was all too familiar with how those felt. How they wrecked havoc on his body and mind. How he felt pathetic every second he couldn’t catch his breath even as people told him to ‘just take deep breathes. Inhale and exhale slowly.’

Lydia nodded. 

“Yeah. Someone came into the room and said your name, but you were afraid.”

Everyone's eyes were on Stiles, he could feel it, but he only nodded his head. 

He leaned back on the couch and glanced around the room. From the looks that he got, Stiles was sure he was doing everything they didn’t expect him to do. He was quiet, understanding, and not freaking out. Yeah. Totally not freaking out. He would have to reward himself later for being so in control on his emotions in that moment.  

“When did you have the dream?” Stiles finally asked curiously. There was a pause, the entire room was silent. 

Stiles watched Scott checked the date on his phone before speaking. “Three months ago?” 

Scott turned to Lydia for confirmation. She nodded, reaffirming. 

“Yeah.”

Stiles’ brows scrunched in thought. He had had panic attacks recently, but he didn’t recall a person. His father had walked in during one of those panic attacks, but Stiles wasn’t afraid of his dad. That had probably been it though, right? He stared at the floor, eyes widening at a realization. A smile plastered itself on his face and he stood, clapping his hands together. 

“Crisis averted then. You guys are off the hook. Thanks for being concerned about my well-being and all.” Stiles patted his pockets looking for his phone to call his dad to come get him. He remembered the object that had been flung off of him when he had sat up on the couch. He did a quick search and pat down of the couch before he found his phone. Stiles turned toward the door, phone in hand.

Scott had scurried to his feet just in time to step in front of him, hand landing on Stiles’ shoulder, preventing him from leaving. It was then that Stiles realized other members of the kidnapping squad had also rushed to their feet, ready to stop him. All except their Derek, Stiles was starting to think he was the Alpha werewolf, who was brooding in a shadow against the wood column. 

“Woah- woah. What do you mean, crisis averted?” 

Stiles rolled his eyes at Scott. 

“Just as I said. Crisis averted. Do I need to say it in another way so you understand? Okay. Problem solved. Life saved. Death avoided. Re averteretur.” Stiles smiled at himself. He had even said it in Latin. His smile faded when he saw Scott’s dumbfounded and slightly irritated expression. “Panic attack already happened. You are out of the deep end. I’m not dead. Guess you misinterpreted the dream, vision, whatever you want to call it.” Stiles clarified. He wondered how many other ways he could come up with to say it. He was sure there was another way to say it in Latin. The gears in his brain started to turn and he almost missed the shocked expression on Scott’s face. 

Stiles shook Scott’s hand off his shoulder before turning to Lydia.

“Have you had the dream since then?” Stiles did his best to prevent the hysteria from leaking into his voice as he spoke. He just wanted to go home.

Lydia shook her head. Stiles had been right about it not being a recent- vision or whatever she called them.

“See?” Stiles turned to Scott again. “Safe.” He then gestured to himself. He was in one piece. More or less.

Scott didn’t look to sure. Stiles watched Scott turn to Derek, probably hoping the Alpha had something to say on the matter. Stiles followed Scott’s eyes to Derek. The older man looked like he had bit into a sour lemon. He looked like a sour wolf. Stiles inwardly cheered. Sourwolf. He had come up with a better nickname. He had already dubbed Peter as ‘Psycho’ although he was leaning towards ‘Douchewolf’ as well, Scott as ‘Scotty,’ Lydia as ‘Goddess,” Jackson as ‘Jackass,” and now Derek as ‘Sourwolf.’ Stiles only needed a nickname for Malia, Erica, and Boyd. 

“Derek?” Scott let the name fall out of his mouth like a question.

“Let him go.”

“Thank you.” Stiles said dramatically before moving to get around Scott.

“Derek.”

“If he wants to get himself killed, that’s not on us.”

“Yeah- Wait. Look, you can’t honestly think that I’m still in danger. It’s been three months for christ’s sake!”

Three months. It hit Stiles. And it hurt. Scott, Jackson, Lydia. They had all gotten close to him because of the Banshee’s dream. They had gotten to know Stiles because that’s what they were told to do. They were told to make friends and play nice with Stiles. They weren’t his friends. Scott had introduced Stiles to them in hopes of making it easier to stalk him.

The extra lacrosse practice from Jackson, Scott hanging out with him and walking with him to classes, Lydia at the ice skating rink. All of it had been just to watch him because he was a danger to the pack. An unknown factor, a puzzle piece that didn’t fit.  

How could he have been so stupid?

Stiles let his face slip for a moment. When he realized his facade had fallen he straightened himself and his features. He wasn’t going to let this affect him right now.

What he couldn’t understand was why it mattered to them whether or not he died. He was a mere mortal human.

“Why do you care?” Stiles turned to confront their Alpha. “Why do you care whether I live or die?”

“Because I care.” 

Stiles snapped his head toward Lydia.

“Like hell you do. Why does it really matter? What is the end goal for you all?”

Stiles looked around the room. Scott couldn’t even meet his eyes. None of them really seemed to know what they were doing. Stiles said as much.

“You don’t know what you are doing. You have no idea why you care or if you really care.”

“Because it doesn’t make sense.” Jackson was talking with his hands. Stiles had noticed Jackson did that a lot when he was stressed or mad about something.

“What doesn’t?” They were finally getting somewhere.

“The fact that she dreamt about you! It doesn’t make sense. You’re a human. Small, clumsy Stiles. No supernatural anything. Who the hell are you?”

Stiles inwardly cringed. He had been called small and clumsy before, it just seemed to hurt more coming from a werewolf. 

“I’m Stiles.” Came the simple answer. He didn’t know any other way to answer that question. 

“What are you, Stiles?” 

Stiles took a step back as Peter stood up and walked toward him. Stiles took note of how Peter’s eyes were scanning him like a puzzled. 

Peter’s eyes flashed a vibrant blue. Stiles took another step back. 

“What are you, Stiles?” Peter growled out the question.

“Peter. Enough.”

Peter stopped mid step and Stiles let out a small breath of relief. 

“I’m not anything.” Stiles answered finally. 

The room was silent. Stiles didn’t know what to say. He was sure the others in the room felt the same way. 

After what felt like too long Stiles began heading toward the door again. Scott made a move to grab his shoulder again but Stiles dodged out of the way. He had actually picked up on a few things from his extra practice. 

Stiles didn’t want Scott to touch him like they were friends or buddies. Stiles didn’t want to be reminded of how fake everything had been. 

“Scott, let him go.” 

Stiles was thankful for Derek’s command although he would never admit it.

“Stiles, please wait.” 

Stiles turned toward Lydia.

“Please don’t leave yet.”

Stiles wanted to walk over to her and hug her, she looked too sad. He could practically see the tears forming in her eyes. 

“All of you just leave me the hell alone. Stay the hell away from me and my house. I swear to god if I catch one of you there I will call the cops.” 

Stiles shook his head as he left the building. 

He didn’t touch his phone until he was outside of the building and down the street. He had no idea where he was. It was already past eleven and he had class in the morning. He was definitely skipping it. 

Stiles checked to see if his father had texted. Stiles groaned when he saw the text messages he had definitely not sent. 

“God dammit. Assholes.”

Stiles pulled up his dad’s number and dialed it. It rang a couple times before going to voicemail. Stiles let out an aggravated noise before hanging up and dialing again. He repeated this a few times before deciding to leave a voicemail.

“Hey, dad. Look, I kind of need a ride. Scott and I got into a fight and I walked away. I don’t really know where I am. I think I’m still in Beacon Hills though. There is a quick mart or something on the corner- Can you just track me or something on my phone and come get me? Dad-” 

The message cut off and the computerized lady told him to hang up or press one to hear his recording. He hung up and parked himself on a bench outside of the quick mart. 

His father called him at about twelve.

“Stiles? Are you okay? What happened? Kid, talk to me.”

“I’m fine, dad. Just hurry up and get here. I’m cold, hungry, and tired. I just want to go to bed and never wake up.”

“I’m on my way, kid. Just hang tight.”

“Thanks, dad.”

Stiles waited in the dark. He still felt like he was being watched, and it pissed him off. It could have been a residual feeling, or hope that they did actually care. 

Stiles laid his arms on his lap and laid his head against his forearms. He wanted to cry. He had finally made friends- thought he had made friends. He had finally felt like he wasn’t an outsider. 

Stiles stayed like that until he heard a car pull up in front of him. He lifted his head to find his father’s familiar cruiser before him. Stiles stood and flung himself into the passenger seat of the car. 

“Stiles-”

“I don’t want to talk about it yet.”

“Okay, kid. I’m here if you need me.”

Stiles mustered a small smile before turning and leaning on the car window.

“I have to ask though, what the heck are you doing all the way out here at this time of night?”

“There was an orgy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know Latin so I'm using Google Translate.   
> *Sorry* :( 
> 
> Please comment :)


	10. Two minutes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jesus Christ, Scott. Stop staring. If you want to say something, say it.” Stiles mumbled under his breath as he continued to stretch. Scott shifted uncomfortably before finally walking over to Stiles.
> 
> Stiles didn’t say anything and Scott shifted uncomfortably before speaking.
> 
> “I heard you talked to Lydia.”
> 
> “”I did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit over 5,000 words. Enjoy :)

Stiles woke up the next morning feeling worse than he had going to bed. His head hurt and his stomach was doing flips. When the feeling got too much Stiles launched himself from his bed and to the toilet just in time to puke up his guts. He continued to retch when the contents of his stomach were entirely gone. 

Stiles slumped over, leaning partially on the bathtub for support. He stayed there for five minutes before he felt strong enough to move back to his bed. He glanced at his phone, it was four in the afternoon. He hadn’t realized he had been tired enough to sleep that long. He had woken up a few times but had opted just to go back to sleep rather than get up. 

When Stiles had gotten home last night, sometime after one in the morning, he had immediately hid in his room. He had crawled into bed, laid on his stomach and buried his face in his pillow. Stiles had wanted to cry, but he couldn’t. Nothing happened. He had laid there in silence until he finally fell asleep. 

His father had left at six-thirty that same morning. The sheriff had stuck his head into Stiles room at some point and asked him if he was okay. Stiles had grunted and his father left. 

“I’m here if you need me, kid,” echoed through Stiles’ mind. He didn’t even know what to tell his dad. He had joked about the orgy thing last night in hopes that his father would see that Stiles was okay. To be honest, Stiles was pretty sure that his father thought he was still a virgin. His father had just shaken his head and gave him the ‘I know you aren’t okay’ look. 

The phone in Stiles’ hand was spammed with calls and messages. Most of them were from Scott. He even got texts from numbers he didn’t have registered in his phone, but he assumed they were from the group of werewolves that had kidnapped him. The context of the text messages alluded to such.

They consisted of; 

_ Stiles, I’m sorry. Please just talk to me. _

_ Stiles, tell me what I can do to make it up to you. _

_ We just want to help. _

_ Stiles, answer your damn phone. _

_ Your life could be at risk. _

_ Stiles, at least talk to Scott.  _

_ It wasn’t his fault, he feels really bad about the whole thing. _

_ You can’t tell anyone about what we are. Especially not your dad. _

_ You weren’t at school or practice.  _

_ Danny missed you. _

_ Stiles, just talk to me. _

Stiles ignored them all. Every single one of them. He thought about turning the ‘send read receipts’ option on his phone to let them know he really didn’t care. He didn’t have the motivation to turn the setting on and read every message though. He deleted the entire conversations he had received and tossed his phone onto a pile of clothes on the floor. He knew they would just keep sending messages and calling. He thought about blocking their numbers but that would only push them to approach him in person faster. 

Stiles just wanted some time to think about everything. To process everything on his own terms. He knew that eventually he would have to stop beating himself up for being so careless. It wasn’t like Scott and Stiles had a normal relationship. Scott was a werewolf. There was nothing normal about that. Stiles shouldn’t have been so trusting, so gullible. He just wanted to wallow at his own pity party for a few more hours.  

Stiles only got up to use the bathroom and venture into the kitchen for a snack. It had taken a few hours for his stomach to adjust after losing all its contents, but he was finally able to swallow half a sandwich. 

Eventually Stiles turned on his laptop and check what he had missed in class and what assignments he needed to complete before his next class. Lucky for him he only missed two classes, one lecture orientated and easy to catch up with and the other his math class. He took notes on the chapter they were currently analyzing for one of the classes, a thing that should have only taken him half an hour but instead took him an hour and a half to do, and some notes and class work for his math class. 

Stiles settled back on his bed, laptop resting on his lap, watching netflix. He couldn’t focus on the show, his eyes constantly found their way to where he had thrown his phone earlier that day. It had probably died by now and he would need it for tomorrow but he didn’t want to get up to charge it. So he left it where it was.

Stiles’ father got home around eight. Stiles had heard the cruiser pull up and a car door close. Despite the return of a family member, the house remained quiet. His father eventually made it up the stairs, stopping just outside of Stiles’ room. His father hesitated before knocking. 

“Yeah?”

The door slid open a few inches and Stiles’ father poked his head in. Stiles had turned to greet him with a small smile.

“You okay, kid?”

“Yeah. Just needed a mental health day. I’m better. I’m sorry about last night.”

“It’s okay. You don’t need to be better right away. I’m here if you need me or want to talk about anything. You know that, right?”

“Of course, dad.” Stiles did know. He just didn’t know how to go about telling his father any of this. If he mentioned the kidnapping his father would press charges or worse and if he mentioned the werewolf thing his father would tell him to get more sleep or stay away from the corny television shows.

“You can talk to me about anything. Whatever it is, kid. We can take care of it together.”

“Thank you, dad. I mean it. Last night was a mistake that never should have happened. It won’t happen again.”

“Look, I know you and Scott are going through some things right now,” Stiles watched his father sigh and push Stiles’ bedroom door open some more so he could lean against the doorframe comfortably. “But, you two had so much in common and so much fun together. I was so happy to see you so happy and content with life. I don’t want you to give up your happiness because of one mistake. That’s not saying you should just always forgive people but I trust you to be the judge of whether or not that mistake can be forgiven. I just wanted you to know that whatever you decide, however you decide to handle it, I will support it and I will support you. I love you and no mistake will change that.”

Stiles’ heart figuratively swelled in his chest. How had he been so lucky as to have this man as his father? 

“Thank you. I love you too, dad.” Stiles’ choked out. He wasn’t going to cry. 

His father had hesitated before he nodded and left Stiles to his own devices. 

Stiles climbed out of bed to charge his phone. He placed it as far from his bed as possible so he didn’t get the urge to check every message that came in. Stiles shut down his laptop and crawled into bed with the intention of sleeping. Despite being comfortable and laying with his eyes closed, Stiles couldn’t fall asleep. He kicked off his sheets and stood in front of his window. He peeled open the blinds and searched the darkness for movement, for anything. 

The wind rustled the leaves in the trees and the clouds moved across the sky messing with the lighting. Other than that, there was nothing. No one was there. 

Stiles crawled back into bed and stared up at the ceiling. It hurt more than he thought it would. 

What was he supposed to do? Accept Scott’s apology and help the pack of werewolves figure out why Stiles was in a Banshee’s dream? Were he and Scott even still friends? Were they ever really friends? 

Stiles sat up, his blanket falling from his chest onto his hips. 

He didn’t need to forgive Scott to try and figure this all out. He didn’t need to believe them to do some research. 

Stiles made his way to his laptop and sat in his computer chair. His leg thumped against the ground subconsciously as he loaded google. Tomorrow during one of his gaps he could check out the library- the library. The little black book. Stiles spun around in his computer chair and rolled his way over to his night table where the little book had sat forgotten. He rolled back over to the computer and opened the book. 

Stiles had made some progress on learning Latin. He could recognize and read certain words as well as pronounce them properly verbally. He quickly did a search on the word. Banshee was a Gaelic word and the Latin translation was no different from the original.

Stiles flipped through the black book. Stiles stopped when he found the word. Written underneath was a description of the creature and a drawing. The drawing captured the image of a woman with long flowing hair in a long dark dress. Her eyes were shut and her mouth was parted in a scream. 

He understood the words ‘ens supernaturale’ which meant supernatural being, ‘mortem’ which meant death, ‘clamo’ which meant to scream or yell, ‘arma’ was weapon, and ‘telepathy’ which was the same as it was in English. There were probably a few others he could pick out. 

Stiles pulled up Gaelic and Celtic mythology as well as Irish faeries of death on his laptop and read through pages and pages of information. He tried to connect certain pieces of information he gathered from the websites to the book. He used a translator from English to Latin and tried to find them in the book. 

‘Harbingers of death,’ was one of the first connections he was able to make from a lore site to the book in his lap. ‘Keening scream’ was another connection. In all the written works he found on the topic, a banshee was said to have a piercing scream. 

Stiles struggled to find more common information between his online sources and the little book. 

According to the Irish, banshees were faeries that were tasked with the job of warning selected members of ancient Irish families of the time of their death. According the Celtic Christian religion in Ireland, they were called ‘fallen angels.’ According to other sources, a banshee was the spirit of a girl who died a brutal death and went around warning families that a violent death was on the horizon. Another stated that banshees wailed at people until they committed suicide or went insane because they derived pleasure from taking a life. 

Nothing told him why a Banshee would be seeing his death. He wasn’t from an ancient Irish family or supernatural. He was just Stiles Stilinski, human. 

Stiles called it a night and crawled back into bed. He was finally able to fall to sleep around ten-thirty. He dreamt of werewolves and banshees. Well, eight werewolves and one banshee in particular. 

Stiles woke up to his alarm the next morning and hopped into the shower. After the shower Stiles got dressed and gathered his things for school. 

His phone screen was filled with missed texts and calls when he first checked his phone. It was mostly the same type of messages as the ones he saw yesterday. He shoved his hand in his pocket and carried his bag downstairs. He  dropped the bag onto the floor before walking into the kitchen. 

“Morning, dad.”

“You have time this morning for breakfast?”

“Not really. I was just gonna grab a poptart or something and head out.” 

His father nodded as he stirred his coffee. 

Stiles opened a few cabinets before finding what he was looking for. He pulled out the poptart box and took the last one. 

“Throw the box away, Stiles.”

Stiles smiled and complied, tossing the box into the trash. He walked over to his father who was leaning against the counter by the coffee machine. Stiles tugged his father’s coffee cup from his hands and took a couple gulps. 

“Stiles! Get your own cup!”

“Mmm. I got to go. Thanks for the coffee!” Stiles took another couple gulps of the hot coffee before he placed the cup on the counter and took off out of the room. He grabbed his bag and tossed his stuff into his jeep. 

The engine chugged a few times before it started up. He slid his hands from the top of the steering wheel to the sides and shifted the gear into reverse. 

Stiles was a wreck by the time he pulled into a parking space at the college. He had plenty of time on the ride there to remind himself that he was going to be sitting alone today. That he didn’t have any friends to greet him or talk with him in between classes. He tried to also remind himself that he had been alone during his first semester. There was something about not having friends, then having friends and losing said friends. 

Stiles hadn’t even decided if he wanted to go to lacrosse anymore. If he did go, it would just give Jackson, Scott, and Isaac a chance to watch him. If he didn’t go, Danny would be very upset with him and he would miss an activity he actually enjoyed. 

Stiles sighed and pushed the thought away for later. He had classes to attend and work to do. Stiles slung his bag over his shoulder and dragged his feet all the way to his first class. He had taken an extra adderall before he had gotten out of his jeep hoping it would help him focus more in class. It didn’t. Not really. He fidgeted with his pencil the entire time, much to the annoyance of his neighbor. She continued to shoot him glares and he would stop for a minute before not fidgeting became unbearable. 

Stiles nearly bolted from his seat at the end of class. He wanted to get to the library before he ran into Scott or anybody else. 

“Stiles!” 

Stiles forced himself to keep moving. 

“Stiles!” 

A hand wrapped around his arm and gently pulled him to a stop. Stiles turned around to face Lydia. Her hand was still wrapped around his arm as if she were afraid he would run off the second she let go. He probably would have.

“Stiles, please. Can we just talk?”

“I have class-”

“No you don’t. Stiles, please.”

“Lydia, I don’t want to talk.”

“You need to let me explain. Please.”

“Fine. Explain.”

“Can we go somewhere to talk?”

Stiles watched Lydia look around. Students were passing them by with little to no interest in what was going on. Her nervous behavior spiked his own nervous tendencies and Stiles caved. 

“Fine. Follow me.”

Lydia released his arm and Stiles was suddenly very aware of how much he actually liked the contact. It was a friendly and concerned gesture. Stiles rubbed his arm at the lack of contact and shifted his bag. 

Stiles led Lydia to the library and toward the back of the library where his ‘too close to tell’ section waited for his arrival. Stiles ran his fingers across the bookshelf as they passed it and plopped himself in his favorite chair. Stiles turned toward Lydia who had opted to stand with her arms crossed over her chest just a few feet away from him. Stiles didn’t say anything, he just waited until Lydia spoke.

“It wasn’t Scott’s fault. He honestly likes you, we all do-”

Stiles scoffed and shook his head. 

“I’m serious. We weren’t- I wasn’t expecting you to be so likeable.”

“Ouch.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean? That because I opted to spend my time in the company of myself I was a self-centered jackass who looked down on the people around me? What the hell did you think, Lydia? Because apparently this is all about what you guys think and how you guys feel and I’m just supposed to suddenly be okay with everything.”

“No one is expecting you to be okay with any of this, Stiles. But you knew about the werewolves. Why didn’t you say anything? If we had known you knew, we would be having a totally different conversation right now.”

“Yeah. Good idea. Bring up the supernatural concept of werewolves to a group of people I hardly know and see how that goes. No! That’s how you get sent to Eichen house or told that you need to change your meds because your ADHD is out of control and creating things that aren’t really there!” Stiles shook his head. He shouldn’t have raised his voice so much. He glanced around the library but no one seemed to give them too much attention. 

“We want to help you. That was what we were trying to do.” Lydia ignored his little outburst. 

“You and I have two totally different definitions of ‘help.’ You see, where you think ‘help’ is to stalk someone in order to gain insight and gauge the threat they may pose on one's self and pack, I consider ‘help’ to assist someone or offer aid of some sort.”

“Stiles.” 

Under normal circumstances, the way Lydia growled his name would have been an attractive thing. In that moment however, it only grated on his nerves how familiar it sounded coming out of her mouth. 

Stiles glanced down at his phone. 

“You have about two minutes to say something interesting before I walk out of here.”

Stiles hated being rude. He was sarcastic, yes. Rude? Maybe sometimes. But he didn’t like being rude. He was trying to get his point across. 

They needed him more than he needed them. 

At least that was how he liked to look at it. 

“We can help each other, Stiles. You help me figure out why I dreamt of you, and we protect you.”

Stiles couldn’t argue that it wasn’t a good plan. Any plan where he was alive was a good plan. There was the possibility that he was actually in no danger at all, but Lydia had still dreamt of him. He was better safe than sorry. 

Stiles was going to sit on the proposition for a few more minutes. He had other questions and concerns that needed to be addressed. 

“Lydia, what do you actually know about banshees?”

She blinked at him with an affronted expression on her face. She hadn’t been expecting him to ask her about that. 

“Their harbingers of death. I’m drawn to bodies and supernatural creatures.”

“And you scream?”

“And I scream. Really loud.”

Stiles chuckled to himself. That would have made for a good sex joke. Stiles cleared his throat and tried to focus a moment later when Lydia scowled at him. Her face softened quickly after he sobered up.

“Scott really wasn’t trying to hurt you or anything, Stiles. None of us were. I really do consider you a friend.” 

Stiles remained silent. He didn’t know what to say to her. He wanted his friends, the people he had gotten to know. He wasn’t sure if the offer to be friends would still be there after they figured everything out. 

“Do you remember the day at the ice skating rink?” She asked him.

“Yeah.” Stiles nodded. How could he forget it? It had been the most fun he had had in awhile.

“That had been the first time I went skating in years. I wasn’t so sure I would enjoy it, but I did. I had a really good time. It wasn’t just because I got to go skating again, Stiles. You being there helped. I didn’t do any of that because I had to. I hung out with you because I wanted to and because you are fun to be around. So please stop this.”

Stiles ignored her pleas and his own urge to stand up and hug her. He wanted to be angry with them. He wasn’t ready to forgive his kidnappers. Stiles ignored what she said and changed the subject back to her earlier proposition.

“Alright. I’m smart enough to know working together as a team might actually get this thing going faster and then we can get out of eachother’s lives.”

“Stiles.”

“Lydia. I can’t just forgive you guys. I was kidnapped.”

“You’re being a little dramatic.”

“Kidnapped. Knocked over the head. Should I say it in another language? Rapta.”

Lydia rolled her eyes.

“Fine. How do you want to do this?”

“We can meet here-”

“No can do. I can only make it to this campus on occasion. We will have to meet somewhere else.”

“Okay… So, suggestions?”

Stiles could tell that Lydia was pretending to think. She knew exactly where she wanted to meet. He has a feeling he wasn’t going to like it. 

“How about the loft?” 

He didn’t like it. Nope.

“Your secret werewolf lair that you bring your kidnap victims to?”

“It’s not a secret lair. It’s our home. It’s convenient, the pack is there and they can put in input. Peter-”

“My attacker.”

“Peter isn’t always that bad. He used to be but he is better now.”

“Uh huh.”

Lydia gave him a look and Stiles caved. 

Sighing, he responded.

“Fine. We will meet at the loft. Give me the address. I’m never going anywhere with you guys again without an address and idea of where it is.”

Stiles pulled out a random notebook and pencil for Lydia. She leaned over the table, pushing her hair over one shoulder so it wasn’t dropping in from of her face as she wrote, and scribbled the address on a piece of paper. 

“There. You can meet me there tomorrow after your classes.”

“Alright.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, Stiles.”

Stiles waved his hand lazily as Lydia turned on her heel and walked away. Stiles watched her leave from the corner of his eye. When she was gone, he pulled the little black book from his bag. He turned to the page on banshees and continued to try to translate the writing on the page. The more he knew about everything the better. 

He was going to be walking into the wolf den tomorrow. He would be severely outnumbered and outfanged. Maybe he should bring a weapon. There was no way his father would let him borrow a gun. Maybe he could bring a tire iron or wrench. Those were conveniently in his jeep for incidents where it broke down on the road. Those were a bit too obvious and barbaric though. 

He should get himself a bat. A bat would be good. Not a wooden one, he had seen video of how easily those could break with the right amount of force. He should get a metal one. It was decided. After practice today, Stiles would go and buy a metal bat.

Stiles hadn’t really decided if he was actually going to practice. He didn’t want to ditch Danny and the team just because he was having issues with three of the players. He couldn’t really skip or drop out because of that. Besides, he loved lacrosse. It had helped him during his very socially awkward phase in high school. It was decided, he would still go to practice. If Scott, Jackson, or Isaac gave him trouble or harassed him he could just fake an injury and limp his way off the field. Coach couldn’t make him play or practice if he was injured. 

Stiles dragged himself to practice. Scott, Jackson, Danny, Greenberg, and a few other players were already there. Stiles dropped his bag at the edge of the field and began stretching. Scott didn’t approach him right away, but Stiles could feel Scott watching him. 

Stiles sighed and lifted his head up and toward where Scott was standing. Scott was watching him, an unsure look clear on his face. 

“Jesus Christ, Scott. Stop staring. If you want to say something, say it.” Stiles mumbled under his breath as he continued to stretch. Scott shifted uncomfortably before finally walking over to Stiles.

Stiles didn’t say anything and Scott shifted uncomfortably before speaking.

“I heard you talked to Lydia.”

“”I did.”

“And you are coming to the loft tomorrow?”

“I am.”

A silence fell and the atmosphere of the situation made Stiles feel uncomfortable. 

“So-”

“I’m not going as a friend, Scott. I haven’t forgiven you.” Stiles stopped stretching and made eye contact with Scott. “You kidnapped me, lied to me, pretended to be my friend-”

“I wasn’t pretending, Stiles. I-”

“Do not interrupt me right now, Scott. I was stupid and gullible before. I’m only going to see if Lydia and I can figure this all out. Then I’m done.” Stiles was expecting Scott to have an outburst. Instead, Scott just looked hurt. Scott looked like a kicked puppy. His lips were slightly gaped apart, his brow was furrowed and drawn together. A minute later Scott’s face went lax and he nodded. 

“I understand.”

Stiles watched Scott walk away. 

When Coach finally arrived at practice, he called everybody together. Stiles stood by the front so he didn’t have to look at Scott or anyone else. 

“Alright, listen up! We have our first game next week. I expect great things from all of you. Except you, Greenberg. I don’t really ever expect anything from you. I don’t even really know why you are even on the team. Anyway, I expect you all to be practicing, honing your skills, etcetera. Feel free to run them into the ground, Jackson.”

With that Coach wandered away and Jackson took over the practice. Jackson had everyone stretching in order to prepare for a mock game. When he deemed everyone ready, Jackson split everybody into teams while he opted out to play referee. Scott and Stiles were on opposite teams, which Stiles enjoyed. It gave him a chance to bump and knock Scott to the ground when he had the ball or was going after one of his teammates. 

If Scott was playing with his inhuman strength, Stiles would have not been able to knock Scott down. Stiles rammed his shoulder into Scott’s for the final time. Rather than Scott just going down, Stiles lossed his balance and the two of them went down together. 

They hit the ground and Jackson called an end to the game when Greenberg scored for Scott’s team. Neither of them made a move to get up. Stiles was breathing through his mouth as he tried to catch his breath. A smiled crept across his face. He had knocked Scott down five times during the game. 

“Feel any better?”

Scott had turned his head toward Stiles. Stiles reciprocated the position. 

“Yes, actually. Knocking you onto your ass actually helped.” 

Stiles did actually feel a bit better. He hadn’t had the urge to punch Scott in his face, but Stiles couldn’t deny that a little bit of constructive, forceful, physical contact actually helped. 

“Anytime.” 

“Are you offering to be my personal punching bag?”

“I screwed up, Stiles. I’m sorry.”

Stiles sat up and Scott followed him. When they were both standing, Stiles turned toward Scott. 

“I know.”

“Are you still mad?”

“Furious. But I won’t be filing charges anytime soon.”

“What did you tell your dad? About that night I mean.”

“That I went to an orgy.”

Scott went pale and Stiles couldn’t help but laugh. 

“You didn’t.”

“I did. Lucky for you, my dad never believes me.”

Scott visibly relaxed and let out a sigh of relief.

“Stiles, I will do anything to make it up to you. I really like being your friend. Please let me try and fix this.” 

Stiles glanced around himself. Jackson and Isaac were standing a little bit away, out of eavesdropping range for normal humans but not werewolves. Isaac was tilting his head slightly. Stiles groaned and slid his hand down his face. 

“Can you guys be any more obvious?”

Isaac snapped his head up and made eye contact. Isaac looked sheepish at the realization that he had been caught. Jackson just turned toward Stiles and smirked. 

“I hate werewolves.”

“Do you-”

“Shut up, Scott. I don’t really mean it. I don’t care that you are a werewolf. It doesn’t matter to me. The eavesdropping though? Really?”

Stiles hadn’t realized that Scott had tensed when he said he hated werewolves, not until Scott relaxed at least.

“So will you let me try and fix this?”

Stiles gave Scott a side glance. The young werewolf looked so hopeful. His eyes were bright and opened earnestly. Scott waited silently for Stiles’ reply. 

“Sure. I’ve got nothing to lose. You already stripped me of my dignity and trust.”

Scott flinched at Stiles’ words, the light in his eyes dulling and fogging over with regret. 

“Thank you.”

Stiles nodded. 

Jackson called the team back together and began running drills. Jackson continued to pester and run Stiles harder than anyone else like he did before the incident. Stiles was hoping he would be a little more lenient and remorseful about the whole thing. Jackson’s response to Stiles’ muttered thoughts was, “I wasn’t the one creeping outside your house. I also didn’t knock you out and drag you to the loft. Why in the hell should I be sorry?” 

Stiles had conceded and decided that he was okay with Jackson. Jackson had never actually pretended to be nice to make friends with Stiles, he hadn’t pretended he wasn’t an asshole, and he hadn’t knocked him out and kidnapped him. Sure, Jackson was an accessory to the crime, but Stiles was pretty sure that Jackson thought kidnapping him was too much effort. It wasn’t something that Jackson had been privy to. So Jackson was okay. 

Going by that logic he should be okay with Malia and Isaac as well. As far as he knew, they hadn’t actually been in on the kidnapping plan either. Stiles decided they were okay too. 

It was a relief knowing he didn’t have to be mad at so many people. It was less stressful. He only had to be mad at Peter, Derek, Lydia, and Scott. He was already on his way to forgiving Lydia and Scott. It was progress and it made him feel better. 

Claudia would be proud of him. She was never one for holding grudges or hating people. She had told him that while one may not be able to control how another person acted or what they said, one could control how they reacted to it all. Stiles smiled at the thought of his mother. It was a sad smile, but a smile nonetheless. 

She would have believed him. If he told her about the supernatural. She would have believed him and he would have had someone to talk to about all of this. Stiles glanced at his jeep.

Jackson yelled his name and Stiles snapped away from thoughts of his mom. 

“Stilinski! Get your head in the game.”

Stiles chuckled at the High School Musical reference that Jackson probably didn’t know he made. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments! I love them :D  
> If you have any questions feel free to ask! I'll answer them without spoiling anything.
> 
>  
> 
> Comments <3


	11. Shift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “But what if it is none of the above? We should keep our options open.” Stiles caught Scott scratching his head in the corner of his eyes and a thought sparked. “Alright, going off topic here.” Stiles turned his body toward Scott. “You may have confirmed to me that your are in fact a werewolf but I haven’t seen any proof- Not that I don’t believe it without proof, but come on. My curiosity is going to kill me. Can you show me?”

Stiles was sitting in his jeep outside the creepy abandoned building. It wasn’t really abandoned. Scott’s pack lived there. Was it okay to call it Scott’s pack? Was he supposed to call it Derek’s pack since he’s the alpha? Is there a specific guide of rules and regulations he should be following when dealing with a pack?

Stiles let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

He actually didn’t know anything about werewolf pack dynamics. He knew about regular dogs and wolves, but did those same rules apply? He was about to walk into a werewolf den with minimal information. What kind of alpha was Derek? Who was his second? How was Lydia a part of the pack when she wasn’t a werewolf? 

Stiles had so many questions. 

Was it impolite to ask such questions?

It was definitely impolite to kidnap someone and they hadn’t seemed too troubled by that. 

Stiles tightened and loosened his hands on the steering wheel repeatedly. He was gathering himself to enter the building. He barely remembered this area from the incident. Everything looked so different in the the light of day versus the dark. 

Stiles glanced at the metal bat in the back seat of his jeep. He had actually gone out and bought one. He hadn’t considered the fact that he wouldn’t actually be able to bring it inside with him. It would be rude to insult the host. 

Stiles finally convinced himself to get out of the jeep and head inside. The thought that drove him to action was the fact that they were werewolves and could probably hear his heartbeat from inside. He didn’t want them to think he was afraid. 

Stiles made his way up the flights of stairs. Lydia had given him the details on how to find the loft. He hesitated by the door before rapping his knuckles against it. The door opened almost immediately and Stiles took a step back. Scott stood on the other side of the door. 

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

They stood there for a while staring at eachother. They hadn’t spoken much at practice and Stiles had purposefully taken his time when leaving the school. He had waited until everyone else had left. 

“Hey, Bashful,  why don’t you let him in?” A sultry voice teased. It took Stiles a minute to recognize the voice. When he did, he didn’t think it was so sultry anymore. 

Scott blinked before opening the door further open. His arm swung in a gesture of welcome as he stepped aside. 

Stiles muttered a quiet ‘thanks’ and shuffled inside with his hands tucked in his jean pockets. He entered the loft and it immediately felt like he had just woken up on the couch again. Everybody was there. All eyes were on him. Stiles reminded himself that he was here by his own volition. 

Stiles surveyed the room and everybody in it. The room itself hadn’t changed and the people themselves hadn’t either. Their alpha was glaring at him and Stiles couldn’t help but feel hurt at the open hostility. Isaac gave him a sheepish smile, Jackson didn’t even bother looking up from his phone when Stiles entered, Malia was standing by the spiral staircase with his psychotic kidnapper, Erica’s eyes were scanning his body up and down while leaning on Boyd, and Lydia was making her way towards him. 

“Stiles. You already know Scott, Jackson, Isaac, and Malia. The rest of them didn’t get the chance to properly introduce themselves.”

Stiles was about to protest. He already knew their names, he had a good memory, and didn’t want to get to know any of them right now. However the blonde, curly haired girl snapped herself off the couch and was before him in a matter of seconds. 

“I’m Erica.” She purred her own name. The entire thing made Stiles uncomfortable. She was very attractive, but she was flirting with her boyfriend just feet away. 

“Stiles.”

Erica’s lips curled up into a calculating smile. 

“I know.”

“Good for you.”

Her smile only seemed to grow. 

“I’m glad we could officially meet. After the whole misunderstanding from before-”

“Misunderstanding?” That’s what she was calling it? “Kidnapping.” Stiles corrected. 

“Tomato, tomahto. You are much more attractive when you aren’t freaking out.”

Stiles gaped at her. 

“Erica. Enough.”

Stiles snapped his jaw shut and glanced over to their alpha. His facial features hadn’t changed. He was still brooding, his muscled arms crossed over his chest in a power stance. 

“I’m Boyd. Sorry about Erica. She has no filter.” 

“Oh like you don’t enjoy it.” She scoffed. 

Boyd offered Stiles his hand and Stiles tentatively shook it. It wasn’t a bone crushing handshake like he was expecting. 

Lydia stepped forward and stood at Stiles’ side. 

“That is Peter-” She gestured over to where Peter and Malia were conversing among themselves. “And that is our alpha, Derek.”

Derek remained silent but his eyes scanned Stiles. 

Stiles shifted uncomfortable. 

“Do you want to go into the kitchen?” Lydia gestured toward the open wall where the kitchen was. It wouldn’t give them much privacy to work on anything but Stiles nodded anyway. Anything was better than the center of the loft under the scrutiny of judgy werewolves. Although Scott looked like he wanted to follow. He probably would have if Derek hadn’t called his name.

“Scott. Stay.”

Stiles wanted to laugh. It was like talking to a dog. He wondered if it would be possible to teach them sit and roll-over. Did werewolves like cooing voices and treats?

Stiles followed Lydia into the kitchen. When she stopped at the island in the kitchen, Stiles swung his bag off his shoulder and onto the counter. 

“Do you want anything to eat or drink?”

Stiles shook his head. He didn’t think he could stomach anything right now. His stomach was doing somersaults. He was pretty sure that anything that went down would just come back up. 

“No thanks. I’m fine.”

Lydia nodded and took a seat on one of the stools placed by the center island counter. Stiles took a seat across from her.

“So what do you already know?” She asked. 

Stiles glanced at the center of the loft. Most of the pack had dispersed and were talking quietly amongst themselves but he could occasionally feel their eyes on him.

“Don’t worry about them. They don’t bite- Well, they won’t bite.”

“Good to know.” Stiles mumbled before turning back to Lydia. “What do I already know about what?”

“The supernatural.” 

“I don’t know. A few things I guess. I did some research of my own. Kind of how I figured out werewolves existed.”

“Is there anything you want to know?”

“Are you even allowed to tell me? I’m a stranger afterall.”

Lydia glanced over his shoulder and Stiles followed her movement. She was looking at her alpha. Stiles turned back to Lydia. 

“It’s fine. We can just focus on the problem at hand. I’m not gonna ask anything personal or pack related.”

Lydia nodded and Stiles focused on what he had learned.

“So banshees sense the supernatural, but I’m not supernatural. Like- at all. So something supernatural must have interacted with me at some point.”

Lydia’s face seemed to lift at an idea and Stiles waited for her to share. 

“Do you know if you may have ever interacted with a really old tree stump as a kid? It would have been very large, deep in the woods in the center of a small clearing.”

Stiles frowned. A large tree stump? It didn’t ring any bells. He shook his head and her face fell. 

“I don’t think so. That sounds like something I would remember.”

“Unless something took the memory from you.” Stiles jumped from the stool. Peter had made his way quietly into the kitchen and had been listening to their conversation. 

“Calm down, Thumper. The big bad wolf isn’t going to eat you.” 

Stiles glared at Peter. 

“Someone let Ren off his leash.”

“Ren?’ Lydia gave him a puzzled look.

“Ren from _ Ren  & Stimpy _ ? Oh come on. Ren is a psychotic chihuahua, Stimpy is a minx. Nothing? It was a 90’s cartoon. How have you not seen this?”

Lydia rolled her eyes and turned back to Peter.

“You said something about taking a memory?”

“Nuh-uh. I never agreed to work with him.” Stiles shook his head at the intruder.

“I’m trying to help solve this mystery.”

“Oh, sorry, Scooby Doo. Please. Carry on.”

“One more dog joke-”

“And what? You’ll knock me out and kidnap me again?” 

Peter growled.

“Stiles. Peter knows more about the supernatural than any of us. You don’t have to trust or like him to let him help.” 

Stiles should have been terrified of Peter. Especially with the stink-eye Peter was currently giving him. He was a bit scared, but he didn’t actually think Peter would hurt him. 

“Fine” Stiles grumbled and sat back down on the stool.

“You guys okay?” Scott asked. He looked nervous to enter the kitchen but he looked like he wanted to be there.

“Peachy. Scott, why don’t you join us?” Stiles asked with a tight smile on his face. He would feel better working with Peter if Scott was there. Scott would definitely protect him if the psychotic kidnapper lashed out. 

“Peter.” Lydia pushed the older man to share the information he knew.

“Remember Talia’s claws? How she used them to remove my memory of being a father?”

Lydia nodded and Stiles raised an eyebrow. That wasn’t something he had known werewolves could do. 

Peter seemed to understand what Stiles was thinking. 

“It’s a memory manipulation ritual that alpha werewolves can do.” 

“So if your alpha, Derek suddenly decided he didn’t want me to know any of this, he could take away my memory?” 

Peter shrugged.

“Aren’t you supposed to know all of this stuff?” Stiles asked in exasperation. 

“I’m not an alpha.” Peter snarled. “I was for a brief time but even I can’t figure something like that out in just a matter of days.”

Stiles had the urge to ask Peter more. How had be been an alpha before? Stiles kept his mouth shut though. He chewed on the inside of his cheek and fiddled with the hem of his shirt to prevent himself from pushing the limits of their relationship. 

“Okay. So could another alpha werewolf have done that to Stiles?”

“Why would another alpha werewolf even bother with me?”

“My thoughts exactly. No, I don’t think it was another werewolf. But maybe another supernatural creature.”

Stiles tried not to take offense at how quickly the agreement came.

“Like?” Lydia pushed. Stiles was glad to have her here. She was smart and got stuff done.

“I don’t know. If we had the Hale bestiary we might be able to figure something out though.”

The Hale name sounded familiar to Stiles but in that moment he couldn’t pinpoint it.

“A bestiary?” He asked. 

“It’s a book that catalogs all the supernatural creatures the pack has encountered over the years since it was formed. It’s a good reference for emissaries and the pack. Hunters have them as well, but for different reasons.”

Stiles thought about the little black book in his bag. He had brought it with the intention of showing it to Lydia. He didn’t know if it was such a good idea now. If it was indeed the Hale bestiary they might accuse him of stealing it. 

“What’s an emissary?” Stiles asked instead. 

“Emissaries work with packs as diplomatic representatives. It’s pack politics. One emissary per pack.”

“So, who's your emissary?” Stiles drew out the ‘so’ when he asked.

“We don’t have one.” Lydia answered slowly.

“Oh.”

“Back to the topic at hand. I can retrieve the bestiary from the old Hale house.”

The realization hit Stiles and he had to keep himself from making a display of it. The old Hale house. That’s why it had sounded so familiar. The Hale fire. It had killed several people and burned the entire house to the ground. His father had been given the case despite years of no leads. It was a cold case. 

“Why don’t we just borrow Allison’s?” Scott hadn’t said anything since Stiles invited him to stay in the kitchen with them.

“Who’s Allison?” Stiles asked. Another name to add to his list.

“She’s-” Scott hesitated. Stiles couldn’t help but notice that there must have been a lot of history between Scott and Allison. 

“She is a hunter.” 

“A hunter?” They had mentioned it earlier, and Stiles knew what a hunter was, he wasn’t asking for clarification of what one was. The word had slipped out of his mouth while he was thinking. The articles he read a while back were written by a hunter. The descendant of the Largent’s. They went by Argent now. Could Allison be related to them? If so, Stiles had a lot of questions for her.

“They hunt supernatural creatures and kill them.”

“I know what a hunter is.” Stiles’ comment went unheard as Scott glared at Peter.

“Allison changed that, Peter.”

“Sure. Change a motto and suddenly everything is fine.” 

Scott growled. 

Stiles suddenly didn’t feel so safe with the two of them in the same room.

“I could give her a call?” Isaac appeared in the kitchen and Stiles inwardly cursed their wolf senses and abilities. Isaac was looking at Scott. His eyes were timid and his face expressed submissive qualities. 

So, definitely some history there. 

Scott nodded after a second and Isaac left the room, assumably to make the call.

Stiles was surprised how much drama was involved when it came to werewolves. They had family issues, girl issues, supernatural monster issues, and he was sure there were a number of other things. And he had thought high school was bad. 

“This would make a great tv show.” Stiles muttered under his breath. Scott raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry. ADHD at work here. So, what does the Hale bestiary look like?”

“A laptop.”

“A book that looks like a laptop?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s on a laptop. I transfered the data as a failsafe.”

Stiles had to give Peter some credit, the laptop was a smart idea. The fact that the Hale bestiary was saved on a laptop made Stiles feel better about the little black book. 

“Alright, so I found this-” Stiles pulled the small book from his bag and laid it on the counter in front of him. Peter and Lydia were watching him carefully, eyes widening at the sight of the book. Scott just looked confused. “At the college library. It helped me figure things out. It has werewolves, kanimas, banshees, druids, chimera, and other things I couldn’t quite translate yet.”

“You found a bestiary just lying around?” Lydia held out her hand. “May I?”

Stiles nodded and handed the book to her. He was nervous about about sharing his secret. It had been his advantage over the supernatural. Stiles figured sooner or later he would have to begin to trust them. 

“What are you?” Peter scanned Stiles incredulously. 

“I don’t like you.” Was Stiles’ only response. 

After watching Lydia flip through the book for a few minutes Stiles became rather bored. Nothing was worse than sitting in complete silence while someone else flipped through the pages of his book. 

“Do you know Latin?” He asked. 

“No. Do you?” Lydia’s eyes met his own.

“A little bit. I’m teaching myself.” 

“So you can read this?” She looked hopeful.

“Parts of it. I haven’t translated the whole thing yet.” 

“Anything about memories?”

“Uh. No. I think I would have mentioned it if I had read it somewhere in there.”

Lydia handed him back the book.

“So translate it.”

Stiles took the book but shook his head.

“It’s not that simple. I’m slowly learning the language in order to translate it. If you want it done quickly you need someone who already reads Latin.”

Lydia’s face fell and Stiles didn’t like the feeling it sparked in his chest. 

“We could ask Deaton.” Scott suggested.

Stiles sighed and laid his forehead against the counter. There were too many people and names. 

“Who is Deaton?” Stiles asked in a rather defeated manner, his head still against the cold counter top.

“He’s my boss.”

“The vet? The vet can read Latin?” Stiles lifted his head up.

“Yeah. But he isn’t just a vet. He’s a druid.”

“Is there anyone in your life that isn’t kin to the supernatural?”

“My mom.” Scott smiled gleefully. “She knows, though”

“Yeah, but you are related to her. So that doesn’t count.”

“Oh. Then anyone at school really.”

“It was also a rhetorical question.” 

Scott blinked at him, mouth agape. 

“I knew that.”

“Can we focus here?” Lydia sighed in exasperation. 

“Sorry.” Scott and Stiles mumbled together.

“So we take the book to Deaton-”

“I’d like to keep it with me, if that’s okay. I want to continue translating it one my own.” Stiles didn’t mention that he didn’t really trust anyone alone with his book. He was worried that if they walked off with it, he would never see it again. 

“Okay. Fine. We copy the book and give that to Deaton. That is, if he is willing to help us.”

“He will help.” Scott nodded in reassurance.

“I’ll copy it tomorrow and give it to you at practice.” Stiles addressed Scott, who nodded. Then Stiles turned to Lydia. “Can we talk about your dream, now?” 

“We already talked about that.”

“You explained what happened in the dream, yes, but we didn’t really talk about why. The tree thing, you asked about that because it’s supernatural, right?” Lydia nodded and Stiles carried on. “You think that if I interacted with a supernatural being or object or whatever, that it would explain why a banshee had dreamt about me?” Lydia nodded again. “What if it’s none of the above?”

Stiles scanned the faces of the people in the room. Scott broke the silence.

“That’s not possible.”

“For supernatural creatures you guys sure are closed-minded.”

“We’re all works in progress.” 

Stiles turned toward Peter. Sometimes it was scary how reasonable the psychotic wolf could sound; and Stiles didn’t even really know him. 

“But what if it is none of the above? We should keep our options open.” Stiles caught Scott scratching his head in the corner of his eyes and a thought sparked. “Alright, going off topic here.” Stiles turned his body toward Scott. “You may have confirmed to me that your are in fact a werewolf but I haven’t seen any proof- Not that I don’t believe it without proof, but come on. My curiosity is going to kill me. Can you show me?”

“You want me to shift?”

“Yeah.” 

Scott’s hesitation made Stiles raise an eyebrow.

“Do you not have it under control? Are you going to wolf-out and start attacking me?”

“No! Why does everything with you turn to violence?”

Stiles shrugged. He looked hopefully at Scott. Scott eventually caved.

“Fine. If you scream, it’s your own fault.”

“Please. I’m not gonna scream. If anything I’ll throw up.” Stiles smiled smugly at the noise of disgust Peter made somewhere behind him. 

Scott shifted. It was an odd thing to watch. Claws dragged themselves from underneath his cuticles, hair grew down Scott’s face like sideburns, his face morphed to one more of a feral animalistic nature, his ears transformed from the normal-human round to end in a point, his teeth elongated and sharpened, and his eyes shifted to a golden hue.

The entire loft was quiet.  

“Huh.” The noise comes out of Stiles before he could stop himself. 

“What?” Scott looked almost offended by the reaction.

“I don’t know. I was expecting  _ The Big Bad Wolf _ or  _ The Wolfman _ .  _ Underworld  _ was even a possible expectation.”

“I feel like I’ve just been insulted.” 

Stiles waved his hands in front of Scott.

“I didn’t mean it like that. You are undeniably a werewolf. A great looking werewolf. Very attractive and in no way any less of a werewolf than the ones in movies and I’m gonna shut up now.” 

Scott huffed a laugh and shifted back. 

Watching the transformation was definitely a skin crawling experience. Stiles could only imagine what it felt like for Scott. 

“Does it hurt? The shift I mean.”

“No, not really. The first couple times I was terrified of losing control and it made the shift worse. But I found an anchor and it became easier to control it.” 

“How about a full-shift? What’s that like?”

“Derek’s the only one I’ve known to be able to do it-”

“It’s none of his business.” 

Stiles spun around on the stool. 

“What is it with werewolves and their inability to enter a room like a normal person?” 

Derek Hale, alpha of this pack of misfits, stood a few feet away from Stiles. The older werewolf was scowling with his arms crossed over his broad chest. 

Stiles swept his eyes over the man. He was definitely attractive. Stiles wondered if Derek did modeling on the side in order to pay for such a large living space. 

Stiles turned back to Lydia when Derek said nothing. Such a sourwolf.

“Alright, Lydia. What’s the plan?”

“Hey, guys-” Isaac stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Derek standing in the kitchen with everyone. He was pretty sure it was Scott’s eyeroll that got Isaac back on track. “Uh. I called Allison. She said we can use the bestiary but Peter isn’t allowed to touch it.”

“How long is it going to take for you people to trust me?” Peter growled. 

“I’m gonna go and pick it up now.” Isaac glanced at Derek who gave him a nod of approval and Isaac began heading out of the loft. 

“Okay. Thank you, Isaac.” Lydia waved him goodbye and turned back to Stiles. “We have two bestiaries-”

“And a million unanswered questions.” Stiles added for her. “So if that is all we are going to talk about today, I’m gonna go home.” Stiles moved to get up. 

“Stiles, there is one more thing.”

Stiles sighed and sat back down. 

“I told you we would protect you-”

“Nope.” Stiles moved to stand and put his bestiary back into his bag. 

“Stiles-”

“I am not having a werewolf sit outside my house and babysit me.”

“It would just be as a precaution.”

“It’s been three months! Nothing has happened. Why would something suddenly happen if it didn’t happen before.” Stiles swung his bag over his shoulder and fiddled with his jeep keys. 

“Because it didn’t happen before.”

“I’m with the human on this one. I spent enough time outside his house.”

Stiles shot Peter a look. 

“The human has a name.” Stiles snapped. 

“Do I look like I care?”

Stiles glared at Peter but overall ignored his response.

“No babysitter. We are working together now. No more werewolves creeping outside my house, no more pretending to be nice, no more. I’ll give Scott a copy of the bestiary tomorrow.”

“You don’t want to stay and look over Allison’s bestiary?”

“Not really. I don’t see the point when you have some many people already here that can help you. If you find anything, let me know. You guys apparently already have my number, otherwise I would give it to you.”

“Thank you for coming here, Stiles.”

“Thank you for making it a choice and not another kidnapping.” 

Scott cringed at the reminder and Stiles almost felt bad about bringing it up. It wasn’t to make Scott uncomfortable, it was just a reminder that he didn’t trust them.  

Scott stood and walked with Stiles over to loft door. When Stiles thought Scott would stop walking with him, Scott stayed. He walked beside Stiles all the way down to where Stiles had parked his jeep. 

“Thank you for coming today, Stiles. I really am sorry about the kidnapping.”

“I know, Scott. Constantly bringing it up is a coping method of mine. I’m serious about the no babysitting though.”

“Understood.”

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Stiles hoped in his jeep and the engine chugged to life. Overall, Stiles thought that had been a pretty successful first- actual- meeting. Stiles would do some more searching on his own and get back to Lydia if he found anything. But for now he was going home, taking a shower, and then making dinner for himself and his dad. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments!  
> Again sorry for the slow build but I love character and plot development.  
> I'm falling a little behind because of classes and essays but I'm going to try to write a lot more this weekend.  
> Enjoy! :)


	12. Small World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles didn’t hate hospitals despite his experience. The hospital worked hard to help his mother. This had also been the same hospital that had helped his father with work related injuries throughout the years. While it may have felt like this hospital had taken away one of his parents, it had also saved the life of the other.
> 
> There was a young woman he didn’t recognize though. She was sorting through files at the main station. She had brown curly hair and an easy going smile. It reminded Stiles of Scott’s goofy smile. It had to be her. Stiles rubbed his hands against his pants, removing some of the nervous sweat from them, before walking toward her.
> 
> “Melissa McCall?”

Stiles had successfully avoided going back to the loft for the rest of the week. 

He had given Scott a copy of the bestiary the day he had promised. 

Stiles had sat in the college library using the copy machine much to the annoyance of other students and the staff. It had taken him about an hour and he had to pay for it out of pocket, but it was a small price to pay for figuring everything out. 

He handed the pages to Scott at the beginning of practice, the day after his loft visit, and Scott had promised to immediately take it to Deaton when practice ended. A few days later and so far they hadn’t found anything. Deaton was apparently still looking over the book. He was translating it while he read it so Lydia, or anyone really, could look over it without Deaton there. 

Scott had told him that Deaton thought it was very interesting that Stiles had found such a book just gathering dust in a college library. Peter had brought up virtually the same thought when they had officially met the first time. Stiles didn’t get it. He had found the book in a library; that didn’t seem too odd to him. 

Lacrosse practice just ended and Stiles was replaying his day over in his head. He had an essay to write and some other homework. None of that had him as anxious as the upcoming game did though. They had two more practices until the game and Stiles was sure that they would be exactly like today’s. Hard, exhausting, and aggravating. In summary, Jackson was an asshole. 

Scott, as Jackson’s second, had done his best to make it easier for Stiles. Scott had partnered with Stiles and given him pointers. Scott had at some point also directed Jackson’s attention to Greenberg so Stiles could collapse onto the ground for a few minutes and take a small break. Stiles could have kissed Scott, Not really, but he could have hugged him. 

Stiles would be getting home just in time for his father to be heading out for his second shift. He hated seeing his father working so hard. The Sheriff hadn’t worked this much since right after his mother died. It was beginning to worry him. 

Although he was sure his father was just trying to close a case, the worry didn’t dissipate.

Stiles thought back to the day he was kidnapped. His father had showed up on the college campus and had refused to tell him anything. Stiles wondered if it was the same case. He hadn’t gotten the chance to ask his father about it at all. Now was as good a time as any. 

Stiles parked the jeep in the driveway and jogged to the front door of his house. 

“Hey, dad?” Stiles called when he entered the living room. He dropped his bags on the floor and followed his father’s voice into the kitchen.

“Yeah, kid?”

The older man was standing by the coffee machine waiting for the pot to finish brewing.

“Do you remember when you showed up at the college two weeks ago?”

Stiles skipped over the small talk. He had thought about starting a conversation that would lead up to what he wanted to ask but he knew his dad had to head to work soon. Stiles crossed his arms to make himself feel better about prying into cop business. 

His father sighed. 

“Yeah. What about it?”

“You were totally hoping I had forgotten. That was what that sigh was about.”

“Stiles. What do you want to know?”

“Is it an open case?”

“Yes.”

“What the hell is going on?”

“I can’t tell you specific details of an open investigation. However, I can tell you we were worried about a possible security threat on the college campus. It was in the news, I’m surprised you haven’t looked it up yet.” 

Stiles cursed his stupidity. That should have been the first thing he did. He should have done research beforehand like he normally would. The whole werewolf thing was knocking himself off his game. He would have had more to ask his dad if he had read up on it before hand

“Okay, well if it’s in the news you can tell me.” 

“A man escaped from custody.”

“Hence the double shifts.” Stiles pieced together. He uncrossed his arms and nodded his understanding.

“Exactly. His name is William Barrow.” The older Stilinski nodded.

“What did he do?” Stiles lifted himself onto a nearby counter and grasped his hands together, resting his forearms on his thighs. 

The Sheriff let out an exhausted breath of air.

“Years ago he walked onto a school bus of students and set off a shrapnel bomb. Four teens died, another was seriously injured.”

“How did this guy get out?” Stiles’ voice fell soft. He didn’t understand how a person could do such a thing. He knew there were terrible people in the world, but having one in your own backyard was different.

“He was rushed to the hospital. There were complications with his surgery and he disappeared.”

“What does that mean? Complications? How does a patient just disappear?” 

“I wasn’t in the room when it happened, Stiles.”

“Yeah but someone must have explained it to you.”

“No amount of explaining could make me understand what happened. My theory is that he had an accomplice”

“Okay. Then why did he do it? Why did he build a shrapnel bomb and attack innocent people?” Stiles asked. He was changing his tactics. By asking about the past rather than the present, maybe he would get more information.

“Stiles, that’s a question for a psychologist. Which, I am not.”

“Yeah, but someone must have asked him at some point. It must have been in a case file or something.”

His father paused before answering. His face full of thought and hesitance. Stiles waited patiently for his father to say something.

“He refused to say anything about it. If you really want to know you should go and speak with the nurse who was assigned to him at the hospital.”

“What’s their name?”

“Melissa McCall.”

“McCall?” Stiles immediately thought of Scott. Scott’s mom was a nurse. It had to be her. Stiles’ mood switched from discouraged to rejuvenated.  

“Yeah. Do you know her?” The sheriff’s eyebrows shot up in response to the change in Stiles’ features. 

“No, but I think I know her son.” 

“Ah. That’s good. Maybe lead with that instead of drowning her in questions about Barrow.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

“Why had this case suddenly grabbed your attention?”

Stiles shrugged. He wasn’t going to tell his father it was because he was worried about him. His dad was a cop, it was his job to solve crimes and put the bad guys away. Stiles should probably just have dropped it. However, it was virtually impossible to do that once his mind and curiosity got involved. There was a mystery behind William Barrow and Stiles wanted to know what it was.

“Who said it grabbed my attention?” Stiles tried nonchalantly.

“I know that look.”

“What look? That’s just my face. My face looks like that.”

His father shook his head as he poured some coffee in his travel mug and prepared it with cream and sugar. 

Stiles would have scolded him, but the man deserved a cheat day every once in awhile.

“Alright kid, I’m off to work. Be safe and courteous. And don’t do anything stupid.”

“Do you even know me?” Stiles retorted. Of course he wasn’t going to do anything stupid. He was just asking some questions, not chasing the perp down.

“Stiles. I’m serious.” His father gave him a pointed look before adding, “Don’t wait up for me, I might be running late.”

“Okay. Be safe, dad.”

Stiles waved his father off and waited a few minutes before heading off himself. He was heading toward Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital. He didn’t actually know if Scott’s mom was working right now, but he needed to at least check and see. 

It was difficult for him to let go of something when his mind was set to it. That little trait tended to get him in a lot of trouble.

A feeling shuddered down his spine when Stiles exited his jeep. A lot of his childhood memories involved this hospital. 

Stiles took his time making his way toward the nursing station. He was looking at the nurses. He didn’t want to ask around and bother the staff currently working in order to find Melissa McCall. He figured Scott would look a lot like her and he would be able to find her easily enough. 

Stiles easily recognized a few of the nurses. He knew them from when he sat in the hospital when his mother was sick and when his father was injured on duty. He smiled as he passed them.

Stiles didn’t hate hospitals despite his experience. The hospital worked hard to help his mother. This had also been the same hospital that had helped his father with work related injuries throughout the years. While it may have felt like this hospital had taken away one of his parents, it had also saved the life of the other. 

There was a young woman he didn’t recognize though. She was sorting through files at the main station. She had brown curly hair and an easy going smile. It reminded Stiles of Scott’s goofy smile. It had to be her. Stiles rubbed his hands against his pants, removing some of the nervous sweat from them, before walking toward her. 

“Melissa McCall?”

She lifted her head and turned toward him.

“Yes?” 

Stiles’ heart ached for his own mother in that moment. Melissa was a beautiful, kind-looking woman.

“Hi. My name is Stiles- Stilinski.” Stiles quickly added. “I go to school with you son, Scott.”

“Oh really?” He face lit up at the mention of her son. “So you’re the Stiles I hear so much about these days.”

Stiles couldn’t help but blush a little. 

“Only terrible things I hope.” Stiles joked. 

Melissa gave him a small smile. 

“What can I do for you, Stiles?”

“Well, my father is the Sheriff-”

“Noah Stilinski is your father?”

Noah. What? She knew his father well enough to be on a first name basis? What? 

Stiles’ mouth fell agape. He snapped it closed almost immediately after he realized that was what he was doing. Luckily for him Melissa had turned to finish marking up some paperwork. When she was done she straightened herself and turned towards Stiles completely.

“Yeah. That’s my dad.”

“What a small world.”

“It really is.” Stiles nodded in agreement.

“Sorry, you were saying?”

“Yeah. My dad is working a case and I had a few questions I wanted to ask about it. It has to do with William Barrow.”

Stiles watched her face fall at the mention of the shrapnel bomber. 

“Why would you want to look into a thing like that?” 

Melissa crossed her arms over her chest and Stiles felt his stomach drop. He could tell that she didn’t really want to tell him anything. Arms crossed over the chest was a universal defensive stance. 

“For a school assignment.” Stiles added quickly. “I’m writing an essay on it.”

“You sure you want to be writing an essay on him?”

Stiles nodded. 

“The psychology behind the actions of serial killers is actually a very interesting subject to study.”

“So you are interested in the psychology of serial killers?” She raised a quizzical eyebrow. 

“Not really. Psychologists analyze serial killers and law enforcement officers use those case studies to find and arrest those responsible.”

“So, what exactly are you writing your essay on?”

“How law enforcement interprets and incorporates the information learned from questioning these felons to catch and detain other bad guys.” Stiles didn’t think he would have to bullshit this hard to ask one simple question. 

“I want to go into law enforcement like my dad.” Stiles didn’t actually know what he wanted to do with his life but it seemed like the right thing to say in that moment. 

Melissa gave him a sad smile.

“Scott’s father works as an FBI agent.”

Stiles nodded because he didn’t know what to say. Scott hadn’t ever really spoken about his father before. Kind of like how Stiles never talked about his mother. Well, maybe not like that. Scott at least still had both his parents alive.

“Alright, so what are you questions.” Melissa recovered quickly from her sad reverie.

“Did you happen to ask Barrow why he did it?”

“Why he killed a bunch of teenagers on a bus?”

“Yeah.”

“I may have.”

Stiles waited for a response. When one didn’t come right away he raised his eyebrows in question.

“Did he say why?”

“You have to be careful to remember that this man was delusional, Stiles.”

“Of course.” Stiles nodded quickly.

“He said-” Stiles watched her struggle to decide if she actually wanted to tell him. Her fingers tapped against her arm. The movement made Stiles more anxious. She sighed and carried on. “He said they had glowing eyes.”

Stiles’ stomach dropped for the second time that night.

“Glowing eyes?” He asked somewhat in disbelief and somewhat casually. His fingers were fidgeting against the side of his leg as he stood there. Stiles knew that Melissa knew about werewolves. It was pretty obvious that Scott hadn’t told her that Stiles also knew. This all meant that Scott knew. Scott knew there was a serial killer on the loose that was targeting werewolves. Stiles clenched his hand into a fist.

“Crazy, right? What else did you want to know?”

“Yeah. Could he have been schizophrenic?” Stiles pulled out his phone and pretended to scroll through questions. 

Stiles bombarded her with random questions about Barrow’s behavior. All of which she answered easily enough. He didn’t really need to ask these questions but he had told her that he was writing an essay and it would look pretty suspicious if he only asked one question. 

“Thank you so much for your help, Mrs. McCall.” Stiles added after she answer the last question he could think of. “I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time.” 

“Please. No ‘Mrs.’ Just Melissa. It’s fine. Fortunately it’s been a slow day. I’m always happy to help Scott’s friends.”

“I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime. Oh! You should come over for dinner sometime this week. I think it would be nice to have you over and get to know you better. Scott doesn’t mention a lot of people he knows outside of his normal group.” 

Stiles caught the way Melissa hesitated at ‘his normal group,’ and knew instantly she was talking about the pack of werewolves her son always hung out with. 

“That would be great.” Stiles gave her his best smile. 

He wondered what it must be like for her. Her son was a werewolf who always hung out with other werewolves. She was probably grateful to see Scott hanging out with Stiles, if anything, for the fact that he was human. 

Stiles thought about his dad. How would his father react to any of this? What if Stiles had been a werewolf? 

Stiles shook his head and chased away the ‘what if’ scenarios. He didn’t need any more anxiety in his life. He knew those questions would come back to haunt him but for now he had other things on his mind. 

Stiles gave Melissa a small wave as he left the hospital. 

When Stiles was back in his jeep he let his emotions resurface. He was angry at Scott. The werewolf was keeping secrets still. He thought about calling Scott in that exact moment but pushed the thought aside. It would probably be a good idea to drive home first and then call. Driving angry was never a good idea and he figured his call with Scott would end relatively bad.

Stiles shifted his jeep’s gear into drive and headed home. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel the entire way there. 

He was dialing Scott’s number the moment he walked up the steps to his front door. By the time he was in his living room he was listening to the phone ring. Scott picked up after four rings, Stiles growing more irritated by each ring. 

“Stiles? What are-”

“Why didn’t you fucking tell me about the psychotic werewolf-killer on the loose?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I cannot believe you. Do not play stupid with me, Scott. I know about William Barrow. I know about the glowing eye obsession he has!”

“Where did you get that information?” Scott’s voice sounded strained.

“Your mom.” Stiles snapped.

“You spoke to my mom?” Scott’s voice rose. Stiles could tell that Scott was angry now.

“I didn’t think I would uncover some sort of enemy of the supernatural!”

“You spoke to my mom, Stiles! What the hell!?”

“I was worried about my dad and his case! Of course I spoke to her! Why the hell didn’t you tell me about this?”

“It doesn’t concern you.” 

Stiles stood in his living room with his mouth agape. Scott sounded like Derek with the ‘it doesn’t concern you’ bullshit. It only served to push Stiles further over the edge.

“Of course it does! My dad is working the case! Plus, how the hell can you protect me when you are in danger yourselves? I cannot believe you didn’t tell me this. We agreed no more secrets because we were working together!”

“Actually, I never agreed. You said it and assumed I agreed.”

“You’re an asshole, Scott. Fuck you.”

Stiles ended the call before he could hear Scott’s reply. He let out a yell of frustration. He was glad he had waited to call Scott. Driving home angry would have been a very bad idea. Stiles would have probably chucked his phone out the window of his jeep. That would have been a terrible thing to explain to his father. 

Stiles’ phone vibrated in his hand but he ignored it. Instead, Stiles closed his eyes and took deep breaths to try and calm himself. When he couldn’t stand just standing around breathing and doing nothing else any longer, Stiles marched himself upstairs to start his actual essay. As much as he would rather actually write the essay on psychos and their contributions to law enforcement, Stiles had actual work to do. 

Stiles lost himself in his work. He had the essay nearly completed and was lazily browsing the web for more sources. He was extremely bored and tired. His fingers abused his keyboard as he typed. 

The knock on his window had him jumping from his computer chair. He made it out of the chair successfully but tripped over a pile of clothes on the floor and fell backwards. He landed on the floor with a thud and cursed.

He turned to the window to see Scott, his face pinched and looking sheepish. 

Stiles immediately glared.

“What the hell do you want?”

Scott rapped his knuckles against the window again and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“It’s unlocked.”

Scott took that as an invitation to open the window and crawl through. His feet landed on Stiles’ floor with a light thud and he closed the window behind him. 

Stiles had pulled himself off the ground and collected himself while Scott did this. 

“What do you want?” Stiles asked again. He was standing defensively with his back to his door and arms crossed over his chest.

“I was being a jerk earlier-”

“An asshole. You were an asshole.”

“And I wanted to apologize. So, Stiles, I’m sorry. I should have told you about it. I was afraid that if you knew then you definitely wouldn’t have listened. I was worried that you wouldn’t ever speak to me again.”

The hurt look on Scott’s face surprised Stiles. It was a genuine, sad-puppy look. Stiles was pissed, of course, but Scott was sorry. 

What had his first grade teacher said about forgiveness? 

It had been after the glue incident. Stiles had fallen asleep in the table during a project and the girls at his table had glued ribbons and paper into his hair. He had woken up and screamed at them. A class of fighting, crying six and seven year olds was not a great picture. His teacher had the girls write an apology letter, one Stiles had refused to accept. He had wanted his father to arrest them. The teacher had pulled him outside and asked him why he wanted them arrested. He had told her they were bad people. She had shaken her head and told him that good people could make mistakes too. 

“Don’t forgive them for them, forgive them for you. You don’t want to be dragging around a five-year grudge while they move on with their lives.”

He had looked at his teacher like she was crazy, because at that age, in his mind she was. It didn’t make sense to him that not forgiving them was just punishing himself. 

Stiles thought it was a convenient time to remember such a thing. With Scott standing in front of him looking for forgiveness. It was nothing like the glue incident.

Stiles sighed. 

“All is forgiven.” 

Scott beamed at Stiles, his attitude changing so quickly that Stiles considered the possibility that Scott was a better actor than he gave him credit for. So Stiles was quick to add,“But I swear to god, you lie to me again and I will find a way to hurt your werewolf ass.”

“Wolfsbane is a bitch.” Scott supplied. “But we can still get hurt by normal means, but with anything other than wolfsbane we just heal faster.”

“You would give away a secret about werewolves that could hurt your pack?”

“I trust you, Stiles.”

Stiles stared at Scott skeptically. 

After a moment of silence Scott rubbed his hands together and spoke.

“So, you spoke to my mom?”

Stiles recovered quickly, giving Scott a small smile. 

“Yeah. She was really nice. She invited me over for dinner sometime. You didn’t tell her I know about your secret?”

Scott shook his head.

“No. Wait. Did you tell her?”

“No. Should I have?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay, then. Well, I didn’t tell her. I told her I was writing an essay and had some questions.”

“And that worked?”

“Some of us are good liars, Scott.” Stiles teased. 

“You sure you forgive me? This isn’t going to be like the kidnapping thing?”

“Shut up, Scott.”

Scott pressed his lips together. He lasted exactly a minute. Stiles had timed it in his head.

“Do you want to play a video game?” Scott asked, hands tucked into his jean pockets as he stood in Stiles’ room awkwardly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy the chapter! This chapter was for some Stiles and Scott relationship growth as well as to aide in the development of the plot.


	13. Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott was wearing one of his stupid grins.
> 
> “Good morning, Scott.”
> 
> “Good news.”
> 
> “Yeah?”
> 
> “Yeah. My mom has officially invited you over for dinner. She also told me to extend the invitation to your dad.”
> 
> “When?”
> 
> “Tonight. Six-o-clock.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to post this morning, I'm sorry!!!   
> I'm sorry if there are any grammatical errors, I'm not perfect.   
> I hope you enjoy the chapter! I'm excited about the next two. Cant wait to hear your thoughts.

 

“Some one want to tell me what the hell we are doing out here this late at night?” Stiles shivered against the cold air. He was wearing a light flannel, but that didn’t seem to be enough to keep away the chill.

Scott had called him shortly after leaving Stiles’ house. He asked if Stiles would meet him at the woods where the lacrosse team often ran together. Stiles had grudgingly agreed because Scott had said it was important. Scott was already there when Stiles had arrived, and he wasn’t alone. Derek and Lydia were with him. 

Stiles parked and glanced over at his bat. It would definitely make him feel safer if he had it but he had given Scott this huge lecture on trust as they played video games and didn’t want to look like a hypocrite. Sighing, Stiles grabbed the flashlight from the back seat, he had grabbed it at the suggestion from Scott. So without his bat, Stiles exited his jeep and swung the door shut. He shoved one hand in his pocket, controlled the flashlight with the other, and stalked over to the small group. 

Derek was eyeing him suspiciously so Stiles returned the look. What had intended to be a suspicious eyeing, however, turned into Stiles checking the older male out. It wasn’t Stiles’ fault that he found the scary werewolf attractive. It was in human nature to admire something visually appealing. When he realized what he was doing, Stiles rubbed his face and turned to Scott and voiced his agitation at leaving the warmth of his home for this. 

“I want to show you that I trust you.”

“Okay. What does this have to do with the Goddess and Sourwolf though?”

Both Derek’s and Lydia’s eyebrows shot up. Derek’s out of what Stiles was sure was a threatening thing, daring Stiles to call him that again and Lydia’s out of surprise. As far as he could tell, she didn’t mind the nickname.

“I don’t know how to get there and Derek does. Lydia just wanted to tag along.”

Lydia gave Stiles a small smile.

Stiles nodded before sweeping his hand out in a ‘lead the way’ gesture. It was already dark and Stiles didn’t have the eyesight of a werewolf. Even with his flashlight, it wasn’t great visibility. In general he just prefered one of them leading the way.  

Derek took the lead, which Stiles was grateful for two reasons. Reason number one, no menacing glares and looks of distaste from the werewolf. Reason two, that ass in those jeans. Every now and then Stiles caught a glimpse and couldn’t help himself from admiring. He was proud of himself for his ability to remain inconspicuous. 

Stiles kept his flashlight pointed at the ground to avoid interfering with their werewolf eye-sight. He wasn’t even sure if it would affect them, but he did it anyway to avoid any future lectures about it. Lydia and Derek were in the lead, Lydia holding onto Derek’s arm as they walked to ensure she didn’t trip and fall. Scott and Stiles walked side by side a few paces behind them.

“So where are we going, Scotty?”

“To the Nemeton.” 

“To the what-a-ton?”

“The Nemeton.”

“Okay. What is the Nemeton?” 

“It’s an old tree stump.”

Something in Stiles’ brain clicked.

“The tree stump Lydia asked me about before? If I had ever interacted with it?”

“That’s the one.” 

Stiles stopped dead in his tracks. It took Scott a few moments to realize Stiles had stopped. The whole group came to a stop when Scott did and turned to look at Stiles. 

“You want me to interact with that thing?”

“I wanted to show it to you.”

“What is so special about this tree that makes it the Nemeton?” Stiles asked.

“A Nemeton, in Celtic religion, is a sacred space. The tree itself, well, the trunk now, is a Nemeton. It’s like a beacon to the supernatural.” Lydia said.

“You want me to interact with a supernatural beacon? What are the side effects?”

“The side effects? What the hell are you on?” Derek asked.

“Adderall mostly. That’s not the point. If I go near that tree, will the supernatural be attracted to me?”

Lydia, Scott, and Derek exchanged looks. 

“No?” 

“You did not just seriously end that with a question, Scott.”

“We don’t know.” Lydia piped in. 

Stiles shook his head and continued walking. Did these werewolves know anything about the supernatural besides the fact that werewolves existed? Stiles had half a mind to turn around and go home. It was too late at night for this. 

When Stiles had told his father he was heading out for a couple hours to hang with Scott his father had been very reluctant to let him leave. He suddenly had a million and one things for Stiles to do. 

“Dad, it’s fine. Scott and I have sorted everything out. He was here earlier today.”

“I just don’t want a repeat of that incident. I don’t mind going and picking you up, but it’s the reasons behind me needing to do that that I am uncomfortable with.”

“I know. Honestly though, it’s fine. I’m driving myself. It’s a new rule. I’ll be back before one.”

“Be safe!”

Stiles had driven himself to the park in a relatively uneasy mood. That mood had almost completely dissipated. He didn’t feel uncomfortable around Scott anymore, not that he was ever really uncomfortable with Scott. Just mad at him. The hours of videogames had helped all that though. 

Derek continued to walk ahead with Lydia by his side while Stiles and Scott followed behind.

“So how does showing the Nemeton help us? Are you hoping I’ll have a moment of recognition or something?”

“If you do, that’s a bonus. I really just want you to see it.”

“Okay.” Stiles dragged the work out a bit.

Stiles and Scott walked the rest of the way in silence. Stiles was going over everything in his head. Werewolves, banshees, druids, the Nemeton, Barrow, his dad, Scott. He had experienced more emotional turmoil, in relation to the listed, than anytime after his mother’s death. 

Scott’s and his relationship had quite a few rocky moments but Stiles couldn’t find it in himself to remain distant. It was probably somewhat unhealthy.

Stiles had a feeling that if they had known each other for much longer, if he had known the Scott before the werewolf, that they would be like brothers. Stiles had thought the same thing before learning Scott was a werewolf. It hadn’t even been the werewolf part that had created the rocky parts of the relationship. It had been the lying, kidnapping, and hiding things. Stiles understood why Scott felt like he had to do those things; Scott was helping protect his pack from an outsider. 

It hurt to think of himself as an outsider among supposed friends, it did, but he continued to stick around anyway. 

“We’re here.” A gruff voice snapped Stiles out of his thoughts. They were in fact there; although, Stiles didn’t exactly know where here was. Stiles hadn’t realized that his and Scott’s shoulders had been pressed together in an effort to guide him through the trees when he had zoned out in thought.

The large stump sat in the center of a small clearing surrounded by trees. The moonlight broke through gaps in the leaves and branches and cast shadows across the ground. The shadows danced despite the lack of wind. 

Stiles was at a loss for words. 

As soon as he had laid eyes on the Nemeton a tight feeling had formed in his chest. He could feel how this area was different from a regular portion of the woods. 

“That’s the Nemeton?” Stiles managed.

“Yeah. It is.” Lydia almost sounded like she was in a trance. 

“Wow. I don’t know what I was even expecting.” Stiles entered the clearing and approached the tree. He turned off his flashlight and let his eyes adjust.

There was some whispering behind him but Stiles didn’t focus on it. He wanted to know what was so special about this tree. The giant tree stump had what must have been thousands of rings. Moss grew up along the sides and in the center of the stump. It was a rather sad sight to see. 

“Does it look familiar?” Scott called out to Stiles from the edge of the trees. 

Stiles shook his head. 

“No. Not at all.” 

Stiles crouched in front of the tree and slid his hand across the the top of the stump. A small gasp was made behind him and Stiles turned to the source.

Lydia’s face contorted and her head tilted as if she was listening to something.

“Do you hear that?” She asked, sounding almost pained.

“Hear what?” Scott asked as he scrunched his eyebrows in an attempt to focus on his hearing.

“The buzzing.” It came out just above a whisper. She was covering her ears now.

“No. What buzzing, Lydia?” Derek was watching her with concern clear on his face. Stiles was glad that Derek wasn’t the typical douchebag type. He certainly acted like it with the rude comments, grunting, glaring, and brooding. Stiles assumed that deep, deep, deep down he was probably a big teddy bear.

“I- I don’t know. Like flies, I guess. A lot of them. The buzzing- how do you guys not hear that?” 

Stiles stood and glanced around the clearing. He didn’t see anything other than a few fireflies flying around the top of the Nemeton stump. 

“Lydia?” Stiles stepped away from the center of the clearing and made his way toward Lydia. She removed her hands away from her ears.

“I’m fine. Really. Just the buzzing.”

“How about we get out of here?”

“Good idea, Scotty.”

Stiles followed Scott into the dense trees, sparing a small glance back at the tree before turning away completely and putting the odd feeling in his gut out of mind. 

When they arrived back at the cars and Scott’s bike, Stiles turned and pulled Scott in for a quick hug. Scott immediately tensed before relaxing a millisecond later, and Stiles released him.

“Sorry, just… Thank you. You know, for sharing this with me and trusting me.”

Scott’s face brightened a nice shade of red. Stiles watched the other man shift on his feet and rub the back of his neck.

“Thank you for coming. I mean it, Stiles. I’m not sure I would have been as forgiving if I was in your position.”

“I can pretend to hate your guts if you want.”

“No!” Scott cleared his throat before continuing. “No. I don’t think I’d be able to go to school and practice if you hated me.” 

Stiles shook his head. Scott definitely had a way of exaggerating things. 

“Alright. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow. See ya, Scotty!” 

Stiles gave Scott a small wave before getting in his jeep and starting up the engine.

When Stiles pulled into the driveway and parked next to his father’s cruiser, he was just starting to feel his exhaustion settling in. It had been one hell of a day. Stiles made it to his house without the urge to lay down and sleep despite being exhausted. However, the moment he stepped inside, the familiarity and comfort of it made him yawn. Stiles marched himself upstairs to his bedroom where he undressed and crawled under his comforter.

Stiles woke the next day with a renewed sense of self. He felt better. Almost optimistic. Maybe things would start to pick up a bit. Stiles knocked his hand against his wood desk. Better safe than sorry.

Stiles had just closed his jeep door when Scott came jogging up to him. 

“Hey, Stiles!” 

Scott was wearing one of his stupid grins. 

“Good morning, Scott.”

“Good news.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. My mom has officially invited you over for dinner. She also told me to extend the invitation to your dad.”

“When?”

“Tonight. Six-o-clock.”

“Is it causal?”

“Absolutely.” 

A smile spread across Stiles’ face. 

“Alright. I’ll be there. I’ll send my dad a text. I don’t know if he will still be working or not. The Barrow case has him working double shifts lately.”

“I’m sorry for yelling at you about that.”

“Please stop apologizing. It’s okay. You were worried about your mom.” 

Scott nodded.

The two walked side by side across the parking lot and toward the Library Education Building. They had a few minutes before class and Stiles needed to print the essay he wrote. 

“Here.” Stiles handed Scott five pages stapled together.

“What is this?”

“The essay I told your mom I was writing.”

“You actually wrote it? Man, this thing is five pages long! How did you write it in one night?”

Stiles shrugged. 

“I couldn’t sleep. I figured it was a good idea to write it in case your mom asked about it. Now neither of us has to lie if she asked how it went with the essay.” 

“But you wrote it in one night!”

“Yeah? Haven’t you ever procrastinated so much that you had to binge write an essay before?”

“Not since highschool and even then not really.” 

“Goody-two-shoes.”

“Says the person who wrote an essay so he wouldn’t have to lie to my mom.”

“I wrote it so you wouldn’t have to lie, Scotty. You are a terrible liar.”

“I’m getting better though. I’m not a werewolf. See? I said that with conviction and everything.”

“It usually works better if you say something I don’t know is a lie, Scott.”

“It was just an example. I’m practicing.”

“Please tell me you stand in front of your bathroom mirror and practice. Please, please tell me you do that. It’s the stereotypical movie scene.”

“Shut up, Stiles.”

“You did! Oh man.” Stiles smiled brightly. This was the banter he missed. It was good. It felt comfortable and friendly. “In all seriousness, It’s good that you are practicing. You never know when you will need it.” 

Scott nodded.

“How did you get so good at lying?”

“My dad’s a cop. It took some practice, but eventually I picked up some tricks from the felons waiting to be processed and from other officers.”

“You learned how to lie from felons?”

“Sounds pretty badass doesn’t it? It wasn’t as cool as it sounds though. They were convicted of minor charges or were there to bail out a buddy. When a cop’s kid walks up to you and asks you tips for lying to cops, and you are a felon, it’s very tempting to encourage the corruption.” 

“So I should ask a felon to teach me how to lie?”

“You don’t need a felon when you have the next best thing, Scotty.”

“And what’s that?”

“Me.”

Stiles smiled from ear to ear. Scott chuckled and shook his head before bumping their shoulders together. 

“I have to head to class now. I’ll see you at practice. Don’t forget to talk to your dad about dinner.”

“Will do.” 

Stiles and Scott went their separate ways. Stiles made his way to class, his body moving on autopilot and his mind drifted off. He wasn’t even thinking about anything in particular, just zoning out on the surroundings around him. 

Between classes Stiles gave his father a call. His father cell phone when straight to voicemail and Stiles decided to call the station. 

“Hello, this is Deputy Graeme of the Beacon Hills police department-”

“Tara! I’m so glad it’s you on duty and not Deputy Haigh.”

Stiles was really glad it wasn’t Haigh. He didn’t like that guy. He was loud, authoritative, and didn’t have any qualms resorting to violence. Stiles also really liked Deputy Tara Graeme. His father worked with her a lot so Stiles had spent a lot of time with her. When he would sit at the station waiting for his father, Tara used to help him with his homework. When he didn’t have any homework to do the two of them would just sit together and talk. 

“Stiles! What can I do for you this time? How are your classes going?”

“It’s going good. Classes are easy so far. If I have any questions though I’ll be coming to you for help.” 

“I’ll have to brush up on a few things.” 

Stiles could hear the smile in her voice and it made Stiles smile.

“I hate to shorten our conversation but I was trying to get ahold of my dad. He didn’t answer his cell phone.” 

“Ah. Sheriff Stilinski is currently in his office filling out some paperwork for a recent arrest. I can send your call to his office if you want.”

“Yes, please. Thank you so much, Tara.” 

“Anytime, Stiles.”

Stiles waited as the phone rang a couple times before his father answered. 

“This is Sheriff Stilinski-”

“Hey, dad.”

“Stiles. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong.”

“Why are you calling through the station?”

“Because you didn’t answer you cellphone.”

“Oh. It’s here somewhere.” Stiles listened to the rustling of papers and other objects as his father searched for his cellphone. Stiles ran his hand through his hair and smiled. 

“Found it. It’s dead. I’ll charge it. So what are you calling about?”

“Scott’s mom, Melissa, invited us over for dinner tonight at six. I told Scott I would call and see if you could make it.”

The Sheriff sighed. Stiles could imagine him running his hand down his face and pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“I would go, but Barrow is still out there. He hasn’t done anything yet but he could be planning something. I’m working a lead right now and I don’t want to risk the trail going cold,”

“It’s fine, dad. I understand. You don’t have to explain.”

“I want to go, Stiles, I do. Let Scott and his mother know I appreciate the invite and hate to miss it.”

“I will.”

“I love you, son.”

“Love you too. Make sure you eat something.”

“I’ll have Tara remind me. Now get back to class.”

“Copy that, Sheriff.” 

Stiles hung up and sent Scott a text. He apologized on his father’s behalf but assured Scott that he would still be there at dinner. Scott had messaged back about letting his mother know and gave Stiles a small update about Deaton’s translations. 

Stiles stared at his reflection in the mirror. He had contemplated changing, but it was dinner at Scott’s house. He didn’t feel like he had to dress up in order to eat at Scott’s house. It was also Scott’s mom who had invited him. Would she expect him to wear a buttoned up shirt or a tie? Stiles sighed. 

Stiles examined his shirt and jeans. There was a small grass stain by the hem of the shirt, other than that it looked decent. Stiles gave his shirt a quick sniff and pulled away in disgust. Practice had left him exhausted and stinky. Stiles pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it onto his pile of dirty clothes. A shower and a change of clothes was probably a good idea. It was actually a great idea. 

Stiles took a quick hot shower. When he got out he dried himself, messed with his hair for the usual amount of time, and got dressed. He pulled on a black t-shirt, his best flannel, and a dark pair of blue jeans. He pulled on his sneakers before he shot Scott a text letting him knew he was on his way. 

Stiles grabbed his keys and drove over to Scott’s place. Stiles parked at the curb in front of Scott’s house. He made his way from his jeep to the front door. His fist barely connected with the door before it opened. 

“It’s creepy how you do that.”

“Do what?”

Stiles tapped his ear and raised his eyebrows. Scott’s eyes widened at the realization. 

“I still have to pretend not to know about you and your thing?”

Scott gave a small nod. 

“I just don’t want her to worry about everything right now.” 

Stiles nodded. 

“You gonna let me in?”

Scott opened the door wider and Stiles stepped inside. 

“Mom, Stiles is here! I can give you a tour of the house if you want.”

“Sure, why not.” 

Scott showed Stiles the entire first floor of the house, ending with the kitchen. Melissa was moving about the kitchen, putting used utensils in the sink and checking on something in the oven. Whatever it was, it smelled delicious. 

“Stiles! I’m so glad you could make it.” 

“I am too. I’m sorry my dad couldn’t though”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure there will be another time. How’s that essay going?”

“It’s done actually.”

“Really? Wow. I hope you didn’t rush.”

“Of course not. I had Scott proofread it.” Stiles turned toward Scott. “You did read it, right?”

“Uh. Yeah. I have it upstairs if you want to take a look at my notes.” 

Stiles nodded. 

“I’d be interested in reading it sometime. If that’s okay with you, Stiles.”

Stiles smiled. 

“That’d be awesome.”

Scott led Stiles upstairs to the second floor and pointed out what each room was. They finished the tour at Scott’s room. 

“Why’d you tell my mom I was proofreading your essay?”

“Seemed like the thing to say.”

“Liar. You just wanted to throw me under the bus.”

Stiles’ grin grew. 

“Now why would I want to do that?”

Scott glared at Stiles. 

“Because you are an evil person.”

“Good reasoning. Very descriptive. Good job, Scott.”

“Shut up.”

Stiles let out a chuckle.

“Boys! Dinner.”

Stiles followed Scott down the stairs and into the dining room. The table was set and the food smelt delicious.


	14. The Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re evil.”
> 
> “This is how a bet works, Scott.”
> 
> “I know, I know. This sucks.”
> 
> “You can always forfeit.”
> 
> “McCalls aren’t quitters.”
> 
> “Uh huh.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter and the next were supposed to be one chapter but it got too long. This one is a little over 5,200 words and the next one is about 8,000. I hope you enjoy it! If you don't, that's okay too.  
> Sorry for any errors, my Beta is reading my work more than editing it xD

Stiles rubbed his hands together anxiously. It was almost two in the afternoon and he, Scott, and the rest of the lacrosse team were waiting at the school for the bus to be ready to board. The big game was tonight. Stiles hadn’t thought much about it, now that he did, he was beginning to feel nervous.

“Dude, calm down. It’s just one game.”

“It’s the first game, Scott. The first game sets the standard for the season.”

“No it doesn’t.”

“Does too.”

“Does not.”

“Does-”

“Alright everyone, get your butt’s on the bus. We have a game to win.”

Stiles dragged himself onto the bus with Scott following close behind him. They placed their bags in the compartment above their seats and sat down. The bus filled and Coach was the last one on the bus.

“Alright. Listen up, punks. This is our first game and it sets the standard for the whole season.”

Stiles elbowed Scott.

“I expect great things from you. Wipe that smile off your face, Greenberg, that wasn’t directed at you. You are going against a great team-”

“Hey.” Stiles nudged Scott’s arm. Scott raised his eyebrows in response.  “Watch this. Hey! Coach.”

“What is it, Stilinski?”

“Give us a speech. Speech. Speech.” Stiles got the chant going and eventually Coach caved.

“Alright. Alright. Good morning. In less than an hour, aircraft from here will join others from around the world. And you will be launching the largest aerial battle in the history of mankind-”

“What is-” Scott leaned over and whispered in Stiles’ ear. Stiles was chuckling and on the verge of full blown laughter.

“He did this every year when I was on the team in high school.”

“Mankind. That word should have new meaning for all of us today…”

“It’s the speech from Independence Day. It’s his favorite movie.”

“We are fighting for our right to live but as the day the world declared in one voice. We will not go quietly into the night!”

“Wow.”

“I know right? It’s great.”

“No sports speech? No team exercise or anything?”

“Nope. I expect he will be drinking by the end of the game.”

“Alright. Let’s get this party bus moving.” Finstock shouted.

The drive wasn’t very long but subjectively, it felt like an eternity for Stiles. His leg bounced up and down almost the entire ride there. Talking to Scott did little to help sedate his nerves.

“It’ll be fine. Don’t worry, Stiles. We have been practicing and training really hard. You put in so many extra hours. We can totally beat these guys.”

“Have you seen the other team? Because I have. Those guys are scary.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“You can say that because you have supernatural powers that will help you kick ass on the field.”

“I don’t actually use my abilities on the field.”

“Oh please, Scott. I’ve seen you on the field. You cheat.”

“I do not.”

“I bet you can’t go a single game without relying on it.”

“Can to.”

“Cannot.”

“Can to.”

“Scott, you literally had asthma before the bite. You said so. Physically, you can’t go a game without relying on it.”

“Stop being so technical. I could go without the enhanced sight, smell, hearing, and reflexes if I wanted to.”

Stiles laughed. He couldn’t help himself.

“No you couldn’t.”

“Five bucks says I could.”

“This isn’t high school, Scott. You have to bet at least twenty.”

“Alright, so twenty.”

“Twenty and you have to wash my jeep.”

“Your jeep is disgusting, dude.”

“Roscoe is a beauty.”

“What do I get when I win?”

“When you win? Please. You won’t last twenty minutes. Name your price.”

“You have to come to a pack night.”

“A what night?”

“A pack night.”

“Scott…”

“If you are so confident that you are going to win than you shouldn’t have a problem agreeing.”

“Fine. It’s a bet.”

“Shake on it.”

Scott held out his hand and Stiles shook it.

“You do realize you just signed on to not use your abilities during the first game of the season. The game that sets the standard for the rest of the season.”

“So people keep saying. It will be fine.”

“You are too positive for your own good, Scotty.”

The bus came to a stop and everyone piled off. They made their way over to the guest side of the field and began settling down. The bleachers on their side contained close family and friends, it wasn’t completely filled like the home team’s side but it was enough for them to feel supported. Stiles spotted his father in the crowed as well as Melissa McCall. The two were sitting next to each other chatting. Stiles spotted some people he recognized from on campus and from his classes, one of which was Matt Daehler. Stiles also noticed Lydia, and Malia sitting with another brunette.

“Who's that?” Stiles asked Scott.

“Allison.”

“Ah. The Allison from the other night?” Stiles was of course referring to the Allison that Isaac had called about the bestiary. She was the reason for the drama between Isaac and Scott.

“Yup.”

Stiles and Scott waved at their family and friends before turning and focussing on Coach and the rest of the team.

“We are going to lose.” Greenberg mumbled.

“No we aren’t.” Jackson defended.

“Do you see those guys? Their monsters.” Danny gestured to the other team.

“Come on, is that thing even a student? I wanna see a birth certificate. Who or what is that genetic experiment gone wrong?” Coach yelled when he caught sight of one member of other team.

“Eddie Abramovitz, Coach. They call him the Abomination.“ Stiles supplied.

“Oh. That’s cute. Just great. What a way to lose. Everybody, listen up! I know the odds may seem to be against us, and some of you may not be walking away from this, but give it your all. I expect broken bones. Preferably the other team’s but I will be willing to settle for the opposite.”

“Very encouraging, Coach.”

“Shut up, Stilinski.”

“Shutting up.”

A whistle blew and Coach Finstock ushered the team on to the field.

“So, I’ll get Roscoe ready for the wash this weekend. Roscoe really deserves some pampering. Maybe you should have taken a wolfsbane pill or something to help stave off the healing process thing you have.” Stiles whispered to Scott. The two of them, and the rest of the playing members of the team, jogged onto the field and took their positions.

As Stiles jogged away from Scott he could hear him muttering to himself. It was mostly self encouraging things. Stiles smiled gleefully. This was going to be a painful game.

The were losing, badly. Coach Finstock called a timeout.

“What the hell, McCall?!” Jackson gave Scott a small shove.

Stiles found himself instantly between them despite not being able to do much against Jackson and his werewolf strength. Isaac had positioned himself halfway in front of Jackson in an attempt to aid Stiles in preventing a fight. Jackson’s eyes flashed gold for a moment before returning to normal.

Stiles was simultaneously grateful and ungrateful for the audience.

“Back off, Jackson.”

“You are losing on purpose!”

“I’m not!”

Stiles sighed and shook his head when he caught the figure of Finstock approaching them.

“Here we go.” Stiles muttered.

“What is this about McCall losing on purpose?”

“I’m not, Coach-”

“He is taking hits he could easily block, he isn’t running like he did in practice. He is playing like Greenberg! Even Stilinski is playing better than him!”

“I’m taking that as a compliment.” Stiles mumbled.

“I’m not losing on purpose!”

“I don’t care what you are doing, McCall. You need to get yourself together play this game like you want to win it.”

“Yes, Coach.”

The group broke apart and Scott grabbed Stiles’ arm, keeping him from walking away.

“Can we put a pause on this bet?”

“What? No way, Scott. You either forfeit the bet or continue to disappoint Coach.”

“You’re evil.”

“This is how a bet works, Scott.”

“I know, I know. This sucks.”

“You can always forfeit.”

“McCall's aren’t quitters.”

“Uh huh.”

Stiles wandered back to his place. He rubbed his shoulder from where he had collided with the Abomination. It had hurt like a bitch. The only thing that made it feel better was watching Scott go through the same thing. It had been a sight to see. The only thing he could think of that would have made it better was if it had been Jackson in Scott’s place.

Stiles got ahold of the ball and made a pass to Jackson who scored. It was a miracle moment and Stiles brightened at the praise from Jackson. It was a small clap on the shoulder, but Stiles still felt a little smug.

Of course, the other team scored on them another two times but Stiles was still living off the energy from their earlier score. Stiles had been so nervous before the game, however, the bet seemed to have removed some of the anxiety and fear of losing. Stiles honestly hadn’t thought Scott would even last this long. He thought Scott would have given up after his first hit to the ground.

Stiles figured one more time being knocked to the ground would send Scott over the edge. While playing, Stiles kept one eye on Scott. It occurred to him now that he hadn’t thought about the limit to Scott’s control. If Scott wolfed-out out of anger, it would be partially on him. Stiles hoped that Scott knew his own limits.

Scott managed to make a pass to Jackson right before the Abomination rammed into his shoulder, sending him to the ground. Stiles cringed at the sight. Stiles watched Scott remain on the ground for a moment too long and rushed over to him, kneeling on the ground next to him.

“Scott? You okay buddy?”

Scoff let out a strangled breath and Stiles got a good look at Scott. His eyes were shifting from their natural brown to a golden hue.

“Whoah there buddy. Hate to break this to you, but the eye-shifting, totally counts. You physically cannot win this bet.”

“This is so aggravating.”

“What? Being a weak little human? Yeah. So aggravating.” Stiles rolled his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Scott pushed himself up into a sitting position and rubbed at his eyes.

“I know. You don’t have to hold back anymore, Scott. You lost. I guess you and Roscoe  have a date this weekend.”

“It doesn’t count, I didn’t lose yet. I haven’t used my abilities on the field. This bet is still going on.”

“It’s your funeral.”

Stiles grinned from ear to ear before offering Scott his hand. He helped Scott to his feet and the two of them readied themselves for the next wave. Stiles could hear Coach Finstock shouting from the sideline. He was probably a couple drinks in by now.

Despite not using any of his werewolf powers, Scott was starting to play better. Jackson was still hounding him for losing on purpose, but they were starting to do better. The fact that Scott was so sure they could win without his werewolf abilities made Stiles try even harder. He thought back to the days of extra practice with Jackson, and soon he and Scott were working the field.

Scott was a great lacrosse player. Stiles used to credit Scott’s skill to long days of practice and hard work but hadn’t really thought about it much after the supernatural discovery. Although, if he had, he would have blamed it on the bite. Scott had told Stiles how he had asthma before the bite, it was what had prevented Scott from playing sports.

Stiles hadn’t actually seen Scott do extra practice and figured that being a werewolf meant he didn’t need it. Whether or not it was necessary, it was clear now that Scott had put in the time to actually learn the game. So yeah, Scott was a great lacrosse player with or without the enhanced sight, hearing, and reflexes.

The entire team’s morale began to increase and eventually Jackson shut up. Stiles didn’t think they had a chance of actually beating the opposing team, but they could definitely catch up and give the other team a hard time. They could totally do this.

Jackson scored most of their team’s goals by the end of the game, and while the score was close, they still lost. Jackson blamed the entire loss on Scott despite the fact that he had turned the game around near the end.

“I take part of the blame for this loss.” Stiles muttered during one of Scott’s repeated apologies.

“And what part are you claiming to be responsible for?”

Jackson was somewhat terrifying when angry. Stiles ran his hand through his hair and rushed out his next sentence.

“I kind of distracted him with a bet, but in my defence he started it and wouldn’t forfeit.”

“A bet? We lost the game because you two made a bet? What the hell? You two are idiots. I should tell Coach about this.”

“Actually, that wouldn’t be the best idea. You shouldn’t do that.”

“And why the hell not?”

“Because then you would have to tell him what the bet is and that would mean telling him about werewolves.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Stilinski?”

“The bet-” Stiles cast a quick glance over at Scott before continuing, “was about whether or not Scott could play a game of lacrosse without using any supernatural wolfy powers.”

Jackson’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open.

“You can’t be serious.” Jackson finally put his thoughts into words. Stiles inwardly applauded him for sounding more calm and relaxed than he looked. “What the hell did you two bet?”

“Scott was going to give me fifty bucks-”

“We agreed twenty.”

“And would clean Roscoe. I agreed to go to one of your stupid pack nights if he won.”

“Stupid pack nights? What-”

“Anyway, despite the fact that we lost the game, I won the bet.” Scott interjected. 

Stiles gave Scott props for being willing to interrupt Jackson after just being torn into. Scott did win the bet. Scott won the bet.

“I cannot believe you won the bet.”

“Don’t be a sore loser, Stiles.”

“I’m not a sore loser, I just think the eye thing totally counted.”

“It didn’t count.”

“I can’t deal with you two. I’m done. I’m going home.”

Stiles and Scott watched Jackson walk away from them and toward Isaac. Isaac was standing with Lydia, Malia, and Allison.

“You going to head over there?” Stiles asked when he turned to face Scott.

“Yeah. I’ll see you on the bus?”

“Yeah.”

Stiles made his way toward his father, who was standing off to the side of the bleachers. The older man’s face was worn and tired, but brightened when he noticed Stiles heading his way.

“Sorry you came all this way to see us lose our first game of the season.”

“It wasn’t that bad. You guys really turned it around there by the end of it. You have gotten really good Stiles. Your mom would be proud.”

“Thanks, dad.”

“Do you want to grab a bite to celebrate your loss?”

“You’re just using it as an excuse to eat some fatty food.”

“That, yes, and I think it would be good for us. So what do you say?”

“Yeah. That sounds good. I can go get my stuff off the bus and catch a ride with you.”

“I don’t want to pull you away from your friends.”

Stiles glanced over to where Scott stood surrounded by his pack.

“It’s fine. There aren’t any plans as far as I know. Besides, I’d much rather hang out with you. For all I know you could become decrepit tomorrow.”

“Ha ha. Very funny, Stiles. Give your old man a break. I’m not even that old.”

Stiles chuckled.

“I’ll go grab my stuff.”

Stiles gave his father a quick hug before heading to the bus. Walking alone made Stiles realize just how dark and creepy it was outside. He shivered despite the lack of a breeze and quickened his pace toward the bus. No one was there. Stiles assumed most of them were stuck in the guest locker room getting a lecture from Coach Finstock. Stiles could imagine the Coach lounging on his personal sofa drinking away tonight's loss. The image wasn’t a pretty one.

Stiles stepped onto the bus to retrieve his belongings. He was pretty sure Finstock would give him hell for opting to ride with his father rather than the team but Stiles figured it was a lecture he was willing to sit through. His father was off work and interested in having some time with his son. It made Stiles feel a warmth in his chest.

Stiles retrieved his bag and turned to step off the bus. His face nearly collided into someone. Stiles let out a strangled noise and stepped backward.

“Jesus Christ, Scott. What the hell? Do not sneak up on me like that.”

“Shush.”

“What?”

Scott’s head twisted sideways so one ear was slightly higher than the other. It was a moment before Scott straightened himself.

“What are you doing?”

“Grabbing my stuff?”

“Why?”

“My dad and I are going to go grab a bite to eat.”

“Oh. I was gonna invite you over to the pity party celebration at the loft.”

Stiles was surprised by the invitation. He hadn’t really been expecting anything, especially not another invitation back to the loft.

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry about it. You already have to join us for a pack night.”

“You make it sound like I really hate you guys.”

“You don’t?”

“No, Scott, I don’t. I mean, sure, I was really mad about the whole kidnapping thing and the not trusting. I admit that I’m still kind of upset about how everything played out. But I forgave you. I know you are trying to do what is best for your pack, and I understand your loyalties to them.”

Scott smiled and Stiles returned it.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“You are a clingy puppy.”

Scout pouted.

“I’m not a puppy, Stiles. I may be a werewolf but I’m still technically human.”

“But you don’t deny being clingy? Are you sure you have your priorities straight?”

“Do you?”

“My dear friend, there is nothing straight about-”

Scott’s raised hand silenced Stiles. His head was doing the tilted listening thing.

“Scott,” Stiles whispered, “what is it?”

“I don’t recognize this scent. It's like fire, metal, and death.”

Stiles glanced around the bus and out the windows. A chill ran down his spine and his body shook involuntarily in reaction to it.

“Can we get off this thing? Please?” Stiles urged.

Stiles was suddenly aware of the fact that they were standing alone on a bus. The whole situation reminded him that there was a psychopathic, werewolf killing, shrapnel bomber on the loose. Scott nodded and the two of them moved toward the front of the bus.

“Wait a second. Was this here before?” Stiles pointed to the little present sat on the driver’s seat.

“No.” Scott sniffed the air.

Stiles hesitated before saying anything.

“I don’t want to alarm you, but I think that’s a bomb.”

Scott’s head snapped toward the box.

“A bomb?”

“It was Barrow’s thing. He had the bomb in a box wrapped like a present. I did some research after I spoke to my dad.”

“We need to leave.”

“We can’t just leave it here!”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know. Can’t you run it into the woods? Don’t you have super speed or something?”

“I’m not touching that thing.”

“Fine. Then we tell my dad about it.”

Scott glanced between the box and Stiles.

“Scott, we can’t leave it. If it goes off while the team is on the bus it could kill people.”

“I know, I know. Fine. We tell your dad. I’m going to call Derek.”

“We need to get off this bus. Like now.”

Scott didn’t argue.

Off the bus, Scott scanned the dark and sniffed the air.

“Scott-”

“You should go. Tell your dad and get the cops here. I’ll make sure no one gets on the bus.”

“I’m not just gonna leave you out here. I can call my dad from here.”

Stiles pulled out his phone and dialed his father’s number.

“Stiles?”

“Hey. Barrow planted the bomb on the bus through the use of a box wrapped as a present, right?”

“That’s what was in the report, yes. Why-”

“How do you feel about the combination of people, your son’s lacrosse team, and a bomb, all on a bus? I think there is a bomb on our bus. There is a small present on the driver’s seat.”

“Tell me you aren’t on the bus right now. Tell me you didn’t touch it.”

“I didn’t. Scott and I aren’t on it. We were, but we got off. We are waiting here to make sure no one else gets on.”

“Stiles, get away from the bus. Create a perimeter. I’ll be right over there after I call for backup.”

“Okay.”

“Do not go near the bus.”

“I won’t.”

Stiles hung up and turned to Scott. Scott had his phone pressed to his ear. When he turned around and made eye contact, Stiles raised his eyebrows in a question. Scott moved closer to Stiles and pulled his phone from his ear, placing the phone call on speaker as he moved.

“You still there, Scott?” It was Derek.

“Yeah. I’m with Stiles. He called his father and let him know.”

“Okay. Let the cops handle the bomb. We need to handle Barrow. If he is targeting our pack than we need to do something about it.”

“Can you guys track him?”

“We don’t have his scent.” Scott supplied.

“Okay. We can worry about that later. He was here. At the game. How the hell does he even know there are werewolves on the team? Your eyes don’t glow unless you shift-” Stiles trailed off.

Werewolves eyes flared in photos.

“Stiles, what?”

“I really hope I’m wrong.”

“About what?”

Stiles had almost forgotten about Derek on the other end of the phone.

“I found out about you guys because of a photo. A photo Matt took.”

“Matt Dahmer?”

“Yeah. He took photos of the team. You, Jackson, and Isaac had flared eyes in the photos directed at your faces. I asked Matt about it and he said it was probably just lens flare. I looked up lens flares, they looked nothing like what I saw. The point is, Matt took the photos. He could have showed them to someone or gotten them printed out and Barrow could have stumbled upon them.”

“Or he could be working with Barrow.” Derek accused.

“You don’t know him. He isn’t a bad guy.” Stiles defended.

“Can we ask him about it?” Scott reasoned.

“If he is involved then you would just be tipping him off.”

Sirens rang in the distance and both Scott and Stiles raised their heads. A police car was fast approaching.

“We have to go. We can figure this out later.”

“We will meet up and search the area after the police finish their investigation.” Derek added before ending the call.

Stiles and Scott waited for the police car to pull up. His father stepped out of the vehicle and ushered the boys away from the bus.

“I called for backup, they will be here soon. I told Coach Finstock about the situation and he has called for a replacement bus. Stiles, may need a raincheck on that celebratory dinner.”

“I’ll wait for you. We can go after you handle this.”

“Alright. You can go ahead and put your stuff in the cruiser. Stay over there too, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

Scott and Stiles stepped further away from the bus than they already were and waited by the car. Stiles’ leg moved, tapping against the ground, as he anxiously watched his father approach the bus. He didn’t get on it, just got close enough to observe the delivery device of the bomb.

“So what was that you were saying on the bus about priorities and nothing being straight?”

Stiles looked at Scott in disbelief. He glanced over at his father before turning back and answering Scott.

“Scotty, boy, there are things about me you don’t know. I’m a mystery wrapped in a very obvious package.”

The look of confusion on Scott’s face broke Stiles’ composure and he let out a small laugh.

“You pick the worst times to talk about things.”

“What do you mean? This is a good time.”

“There might be a murderer lurking nearby and there is a bomb on the bus we arrived on.”

“I doubt it. Barrow is smart, he has evaded the police for this long. The bomb thing is being handled.”

“This is a conversation for another time, Scotty. I may need to knock you out and kidnap you for this kind of news.”

Scott gave Stiles a small smile but remained silent.

More police officers arrived, and Deputy Parrish was among them. Parrish stepped out of his cruiser and opened the trunk. He dressed himself in a bomb suit and approached the bus. The rest of the new police arrivals finished setting up the perimeter.

A small crowd had formed, Isaac, Jackson, Lydia, Malia, and Allison among them.

The whole process seemed to take forever. Deputy Parrish stepped onto the bus and they waited. Stiles couldn’t help but be thankful it wasn’t in his father’s job description to defuse bombs. Instead, he stood outside of the blast radius speaking to Parish over the radio.

Eventually a back up bus arrived and Coach Finstock yelled for the team to board the replacement bus. Despite wanting to see the outcome, the team followed his orders. Stiles watched his father assure them that they would be able to retrieve their belongings either at the station later tonight or Monday during practice at the college campus.

Stiles found Coach Finstock and notified him he was going to wait and get a ride with the Sheriff. He got an earful about abandoning his team and losing the game, but was dismissed nonetheless. Stiles then walked Scott to the replacement bus.

“We can meet up tomorrow and figure things out.”

“Okay.” Stiles agreed.

“The pack and I will come back after the police have cleared out and search the area.”

“Alright. I’ll let you know how everything goes here.”

Stiles wandered back to his father’s cruiser by himself. He watched his father interact with his Deputies. Even without his uniform he held an air of authority around him. Stiles felt a rush of pride. His father had the situation under control.

Deputy Parrish was off the bus in less than twenty minutes. Stiles didn’t know all of the details, but they had placed the device in a bomb containment chamber and had called the all clear.

He heard them discussing dusting the bus for prints; Stiles was sure they would get the prints of the entire team, the bus driver, and maybe if they were lucky, a partial for Barrow. They took photos of the crime scene and scanned the nearby treeline.

Stiles sat himself in the passenger seat of the cruiser and closed his eyes. He was exhausted. The earlier adrenaline had worn off and he was now running on fumes. Stiles thought about Matt and the photos. How else could Barrow have known about the werewolves on the team. Could they even be sure that Barrow knew? Could Matt really be involved? Stiles didn’t actually know that much about Matt. He knew something had happened to him that made him more timid around others, but he considered Matt a friend.

The door on his left opened. Stiles opened his eyes and turned toward it. His father released a heavy sigh before seating himself behind the wheel. The noise from closing the door seemed so much louder than it actually was.

“Sorry it took so long, kid. I can take you back to the jeep and we can have dinner tomorrow night.”

Stiles sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“It’s fine. I’m awake. We can go eat now if you want to.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. After we eat you can drop me off at the school and I’ll follow you back.”

“Alright. Pick a place.”

Stiles picked the diner, it was nice but cheap and provided them with some healthy food choices. Stiles was obviously suggestive when they looked over the menu.

“A veggie burger, nice. Oh, look. They also have salads and fruit sides.”

When they were ready to order, Stiles let his father go first. He wasn’t going to criticize his father’s food choices in public, and he already decided that a cheat day was okay.

“I would like a cheeseburger and a side salad.”

“Would you like the side of fries as well?”

“No thank you, just the burger and the salad.”

Stiles smiled.

The waitress turned to him and Stiles listed his order.

“Cheeseburger and chili fries for me, please.” Stiles caught his father’s glare in the corner of his eye, “And a fruit bowl.”

“Alright. I’ll be back in a bit to refill your drinks. Let me know if I can get you anything else”

“Thank you.”

Stiles and his father chatted quietly with one another while they waited for their food. They somehow found enough to talk about without mentioning Barrow or the bomb on the bus. When the food finally arrived, even Stiles went quiet in order to enjoy his the meal. He pretended not to see his father occasionally steal from his plate of chili fries.

“You played well tonight, Stiles. I know it was the first game of the season, but there will be more games. You guys definitely stand a chance.”

“Thanks, and I know. We were a little bit off today.”

“I know there is a lot going on with you, and I know I’ve said this before, but I’m here if you need to talk.”

Stiles nodded.

They ate their food while maintaining a small conversation.

The older Stilinski dropped Stiles off at his jeep after dinner. The Sheriff waited until Stiles was safely inside the vehicle and left ahead of him.

Stiles started the engine and followed after his father. He pulled into the driveway just as his father was exiting his own vehicle and the two of them walked to the front door together.

Stiles shot Scott a quick text after dinner with his father. It read: They announced the site clear. They are analyzing the bomb and fingerprints. Did you find anything?

Scott replied almost instantly.

Stiles read over the paragraph Scott sent. They hadn’t found anything. The pack had gotten together and met up where the bus had been parked. The scent Scott had smelled earlier had nearly vanished but they managed to trail it for a quarter mile before losing it completely. Scott also mentioned that Lydia had heard the buzzing again, although not as strong as the night out in the woods.

Once was a coincidence, twice was a pattern.


	15. William Barrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What the hell, Stiles!” Isaac looked pissed and somewhat terrified by the fact that he almost got a bat to the face.
> 
> “You shouldn’t creep up on people like that.”
> 
> “So you want me to just announce myself to the entire room?”
> 
> “It’s better than getting a bat to the face.”
> 
> “I would have dodged.”
> 
> “You are such a liar.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So this chapter is a bit longer (8,382 words long). I may or may not be late posting the next chapter. I have exams this week and next week. I will try my best to get some writing in.  
> I'm sorry if it is too unrealistic for your liking, I wanted to have fun and be as realistic to the television show as possible.  
> I'm also sorry for any errors!   
> I hope you enjoy!   
> I love your comments <3

Stiles slept in Saturday morning. While it could technically be called sleeping in, he didn’t get much sleep during the night. He went to sleep easily enough in the beginning but periodically woke up in the middle of the night. 

When Stiles finally succumbed to the idea of being awake and not getting sleep, it was a little after eleven-thirty in the morning. He knew from experience that his father was already at work and wandered down stairs to the kitchen in just his sweats. He poured himself a cup of juice, too lazy to make a cup of coffee, and wandered around the kitchen opening and closing cabinet doors. If it was out of boredom or hunger, Stiles didn’t know. 

Back up in his room, Stiles had dressed and decided to give Scott a video call. Scott picked up after the second ring and Stiles was greeted by Scott’s cheerfully annoying face. 

“If we are meeting up today, I’m gonna need some coffee.”

“I doubt that is what you need.”

Stiles popped an Adderall into his mouth and swallowed.

“We need to do some digging on Barrow.”

“I spoke to my mom. I asked her if the hospital still had Barrow’s possessions. They don’t, the cops collected it as evidence when Barrow took off. I think if I get a scent off of his stuff, we can find him.”

“You aren’t seriously proposing what I think you are. Are you?”

“I know you dad is the Sheriff and this is a hard thing to ask of you-”

“I’m in.”

“Yeah? Even though it’s completely illegal?” Scott sounded relieved.

“Yeah. Gotta start to trust you at some point. I want to help. Besides, I’m pretty sure you would screw it up and get caught without me. When do you want to do this? I’m gonna need at least a couple hours to get everything together. Plus we are gonna need at least one other person.”

“Slow down, Stiles. I was just gonna break the door open and-”

“Stop. You’re hurting me. We don’t want to leave any evidence behind.”

Scott chuckled.

“We can do it whenever. Hopefully soon though. Just get whatever you think we need.”

“We can do it tonight. My dad has a no working overtime on weekends policy.” 

“Stiles?”

“What?” 

Stiles took a moment to study Scott’s features. He looked calm and serious, maybe a bit surprised by the ease in which Stiles agreed to help. Stiles was probably crazy, but he wanted to trust Scott, wanted to show Scott that he could be trusted and relied on. They were in this together, crazy or not.

“Have you ever done this before?”

“What, steal from the police evidence locker? No. I’m not a criminal, Scott.”

“Right.”

Stiles and Scott agreed to meet up around three in the afternoon. Before then, Stiles had some work to do. He grabbed his laptop, keys, and flannel before he began heading down stairs, phone pressed against his ear as he listened to it ring.

“You never call me.”

“Danny! I need a favor, man.”

“Is it legal?”

“Not entirely. I promise to leave you as far out of it as possible though.”

Danny sighed. 

“What do you want?”

“I need to borrow a RFID emulator. Can you meet me at the little coffee shop by the campus?”

Stiles waited inside with his coffee and laptop out in front of him for Danny. Danny walked in roughly ten minutes after Stiles had sat down. He had a bag slung over one shoulder. Stiles closed his laptop and moved it to the side when Danny began walking over. Danny set the bag down on the tabletop in front of Stiles and sat down.

“Everything you’ll need is in there. You know how to work it, don’t break it. I don’t want to know why you need this, but I need assurances that I will be getting it back and that it won’t end up as evidence in a police investigation. As well as a favor in turn.”

“All very reasonable requests. I won’t need it for very long. What do you want?”

Stiles took a sip of coffee as he waited for Danny to reply.

“A wingman.”

Stiles nearly choked on his drink. 

“Wingman? Me? Are you serious?”

Danny knew Stiles’ sexual orientation and had constantly brushed off Stiles’ questions about whether or not Danny found him attractive. They were good friends and nothing more would ever really come from their relationship. Despite being good friends, they had never gone to a bar together or really hung out at parties. They never spoke about their dating interests. So Danny asking him to be his wingman was a pretty big deal.

Danny rolled his eyes and reached to slide the bag off the table and away from Stiles. 

“Wait! Wait. Okay. Fine.”

“That wasn’t all.”

Danny released the bag and leaned back in his chair. 

“I said I needed assurances.”

“My word isn’t enough?”

“Normally, sure. But this is something that can affect my client pool.”

Of course Danny would be thinking about his clients and his reputation. 

“Alright. What do you need? I have like, twenty bucks on me and some lint.”

“Keys to your jeep.”

Stiles’ jaw fell.

“Seriously? I kind of need that to get around.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way. I won’t do anything to it. You get your keys back when I get the emulator back.” 

Stiles turned the proposition over in his head. Danny had named a high price. A favor and his keys. It was this or Stiles could spend hours tracking down another trustworthy source to get an emulator. Stiles sighed and fished his keys from his pocket.

“Be good to Roscoe, Danny.”

“Sure thing.” 

Danny pushed the backpack toward Stiles. Stiles checked its contents and smiled. It occurred to him what a sight this must be for other people. In any other town where everyone didn’t know everyone, someone might have thought they were doing an illegal deal with drugs or other things of the sort. Stiles felt like a badass movie or television star.

Stiles chugged the rest of his coffee and found himself unable to sit still any longer. Maybe Scott was right about not needing the coffee. The two of them stood and walked out of the coffee shop together.

“Do you think you could give me a ride?”

Danny nodded.

“Where to?”

“The police station.” 

Stiles followed Danny to his car and called Scott to update him on the situation. Stiles was very conscious of what words he used and what he said while one the phone in Danny’s car. The less Danny knew, the better.

Danny dropped Stiles off at the station at around one. Stiles wandered inside, half hoping his dad was out answering a call and half hoping he could spend time with his old man. 

“Hello there, Deputy Clark.”

Stiles smiled at the newest addition to the police department. His father had told him about her. She was working and caring for her younger sister who was still in highschool. 

“I was warned about you.”

Stiles frowned. 

“I didn’t do anything. You don’t even know who I am.”

“Stiles Stilinski. Your father has a picture of you in his office, although you were a lot younger in it. I was told you have a knack for getting in trouble.” 

Stiles’ lip twitched upward slightly. Stiles couldn’t deny it, his history was filled with small incidents that had gotten him in trouble, although it was never anything terribly serious.

“Is my dad in?”

“Not at the moment. He should be back in an hour or so.”

“Awesome. Am I allowed to wait in his office or am I required to stand out here?”

Stiles almost felt bad for the new Deputy, especially since he was about to do something totally illegal on her watch. She hesitated before nodded toward the back where his father’s office was.

“Thank you.” 

Stiles felt kinda bad about everything despite how necessary he felt it was. He scanned the area around him. The precinct was virtually empty, except for Deputy Clark and himself. Stiles settled himself in his father’s office and got to work. He pulled his laptop from his bag and rummaged through his father’s desk. He made sure not to shift anything around too much, his father had an attention to detail. 

The folder labeled “Barrow” on top of the desk caught his attention and he couldn’t resist a peek at it. He snapped some quick photos and placed the folder back where he got it. 

Stiles was leaning back in his father’s chair, laptop on his lap and feet on his father’s desk, when the Sheriff walked in.

“Stiles. Should I be worried?”

“Why is it that everytime I come to visit you at work you think I am up to something?”

“Because you're you.”

“Did you know that a person’s personality may actually be tied to their genetics? So it’s kinda your fault I’m like this. It’s in my DNA.” 

“You get it from your mother.” 

Stiles sobered up like he did every time his father mentioned his mom. A small smile, somber lingered on his lips at the thought of his personality coming from his mother. His father was probably very right about that.

“What did you want for dinner?” Stiles finally asked.

“You came all this way to ask what I wanted for dinner? What are you up to?”

“Nothing. I was gonna go to Scott’s tonight but I didn’t want you to go without dinner.”

“I know how to cook, Stiles. You could have just texted or called.”

“Last time your phone was dead.”

“Don’t worry about me. Get out of here.”

Stiles stood from where he was seated behind the Sheriff’s desk, bag over his shoulder and laptop tucked under his arm, and move toward the door.

“Hold on a second.”

Stiles froze. He ran through every possible scenario he could think of in his head before turning around to face his dad, an eyebrow raised.

“Where’s the jeep? I didn’t see it outside.”

Stiles shoulders dropped slightly in relief.

“Oh. Yeah. The engine was making the clunking noise again so I took Roscoe in to get checked. I’ll get her back later tonight or tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Well, see ya.”

Stiles passed the now occupied desks. Parish and Haigh seemed to be having a glaring contest or sorts.

Stiles gave Deputy Clark a small smile as he left. She gave him a wary smile in return.

Scott was waiting for him outside of the Sheriff’s office, but he didn’t have his bike like Stiles was expecting.

“Scotty, whose car did you steal?”

“I didn’t steal it. I borrowed Lydia’s. I figured that would be a better choice than my bike.”

“Did you tell her about the plan?”

“I told the entire pack.”

“I thought this was going to be me, you, and whoever you told.”

“Erica. And yeah, the three of us will handle tonight.”

“Erica made the call?”

“Yeah.”

“She did a good job.”

“You had access?”

“Yeah. I may have found a lead on Barrow. I’ll explain everything later. Drop me off at my place and give me a couple hours.”

Scott nodded and the two of them made small talk on the way over to Stiles’ house. 

Scott dropped Stiles off, he had to run a few errands for his mother, and Stiles went inside and got to work. He settled into his computer chair at his desk. He pulled out his laptop and started up the program. 

At the end of an hour, Stiles had everything ready. He sent Scott a text to come pick him up. He sent Danny a similar text letting him know he was done with the RFID emulator and that he could pick it up. 

Danny arrived before Scott and Stiles met up with him. As he was getting out of his car, Danny waved Stiles keys in the air, making Stiles suddenly very aware of how anxious he was without Roscoe’s keys within reach. The weight he didn’t realize he was carrying on his chest lightened. He made a mental note never to let Roscoe act as an assurance again. He trusted Danny, but the fact that he has subconsciously reacted in such a way perturbed him.

Stiles handed the backpack to Danny and Danny in turn tossed Stiles the keys. Stiles weighed the keys in his hand, feeling the cold metal provide some small comfort. 

“I’ll give you a call when I need you.” Danny said before getting back into his car. Stiles knew Danny was referring to the wingman thing.  

Stiles would have liked to talk to Danny more, but Scott was pulling up in Lydia’s car and they were on a schedule. 

“Alright. Thank you again, Danny. I appreciate the help.”

Danny waved to Scott as he pulled away.

“Just give me a moment, Scotty. I’ll grab my bag.” 

Stiles ran into his house to retrieve his bag with his laptop and the key cards. He had gotten the bag ready before Danny showed up. He locked the front door behind him as he left the house, his keys spinning around his finger. 

“Alright. Take me to my baby.”

“I still can’t believe you gave up your keys. Where did you park it?”

“Sacrifices had to be made. Never again though. Next time I’m using your bike as assurance. Coffee shop by the college campus.” 

Scott made a strangled noise at the threat of his bike being taken away from him. 

“I bought that bike, man. I worked hard for it.”

“Roscoe belonged to my mom.” Stiles replied quietly after a few moment of silence after Scott’s complaint. Scott turned away from the road for a moment to look at him.

“I’m sorry. You didn’t have to agree to Danny’s terms, we could have found another way.”

“It would have taken too long to find another way. I trust Danny, I just didn’t know I would be so anxious not having the keys within grasp or anything.” Stiles twirled the keys around his finger. “All safe and sound now.”

Stiles nearly flung himself out of Lydia’s car and onto the hood of his jeep when they arrived. Nearly. Rather than make a fool of himself, he calmly approached the vehicle. Stiles slid his hand along the hood of the jeep before he popped open the door and positioned himself behind the wheel. He turned the ignition and smiled at the familiar noise it made. 

Stiles followed Scott to the loft. They had to go over the plan and pick up Erica for the little heist they were pulling tonight. The idea of the loft still bothered Stiles but not enough to prevent him from going back. 

Sitting alone in the jeep left Stiles to his thoughts. 

Stiles didn’t know how Erica had been chosen for this, but Scott assured him she would be perfect for the job. Stiles wasn’t so sure. He had met Erica for a brief amount of time. She was devious as far as he could tell, and that made her dangerous. He would have to watch her at the station and made sure she didn’t swipe anything off any shelves, or he could make her the look out.  

Maybe this thing with Barrow was the danger Lydia was so worried about. This had to be it, right? The two events, the dream and Barrow’s escape, occurred in a small amount of time. The two had to correlate. 

They pulled into the creepy parking lot of the creepy seemingly abandoned building and walked up to the loft together. Stiles brought his bat and backpack with him. He didn’t need the bat, but he regretted not bringing it in with him the last time he was there. He didn’t plan on using it but it provided him with some comfort. 

Neither Stiles or Scott spoke as they walked together. There wasn’t much to say. 

Scott slid open the loft door and walked in. He waited for Stiles to follow him in before closing the door. Stiles looked around. He had the entire layout of the loft already memorized. He was his father’s son after all. Stiles was met by familiar faces. Everyone but Peter was there. 

“Peter isn’t here.”

Stiles locked eyes with Derek and raised an eyebrow.

“Why not?”

“What’s the plan?” Derek completely avoided the question but Stiles didn’t push it. He was grateful the psychotic werewolf wasn’t there. He may have forgiven Scott and basically the rest of the pack, but he still didn’t forgive nor did he trust Peter.

Stiles moved himself into the kitchen, knowing the pack would follow him there. He had the most space there to pull everything out. He placed his bat on the island and pulled his bag off his shoulder. Stiles pulled the key cards and a folded map of Beacon Hills out of his bag. 

When Stiles looked up to share his information, he was surrounded. Not in the menacing way one might have expected with their history and distrust. They waited with patient faces for Stiles to share. Although he was pretty sure Erica was struggling to stay silent. She seemed the type of person crave recognition.

“Good job with the phone call, Erica. Scott told me you were the one who made the call and would be the one breaking in with us.” 

Erica grinned. She straightened her posture and tossed her hair over her shoulder playfully.

“I have a knack for sounding very convincing.” 

Stiles smiled. He was right about her deviousness.

“What did you say to them?” Stiles asked. 

“There was a strange man, tall, pale, and wearing clothes that don’t quite fit him wandering the campus. I heard about this on the news. It’s that crazy man, isn’t it? Oh my god.” Stiles smiled at Erica’s impersonation of the stereotypical movie girl. “Or something like that.” She finished with a small shrug.

“Thank you for helping out.”

“It was fun. Any time you want to break the law, I’m your girl.” 

Stiles grinned at Boyd’s eyeroll. 

“Okay. So here are the cards. There are three of them.” Stiles held the first one up. “This one is for the perimeter door. It’s our way into the precinct.” He held up the second card. “This one is for the evidence room.” He held up the last card. “And last but not least, the Sheriff’s office. For emergency use only.” His eyes scanned his audience and he waited for each of them to nod. 

“Alright. So I figure Scott and I will head in and retrieve the evidence, and Erica, you keep watch.”

“What? Why do you guys always get to do the cool, fun things?” 

“Fine. Scott can be look out.”

“What? Come on, that’s not fair. This was my plan.”

“I will take Jackson instead then.” Stiles enjoyed the moment of panic that flashed across Jackson’s face. The guy was probably terrified of getting caught. It would go on his record unless his probably rich parents bailed him out and fought to keep it off his record. 

“What? No! I’ll be look out.” Scott conceded.

“Good. Okay. Erica and I - don’t take anything that we don’t need, Erica - will go and get Barrow’s personal possessions. Then you guys can smell it and track it.” Stiles glanced between Scott and Erica.

“Before you try to track him, bring it back here. We will all do it.” Derek inserted.

Stiles nodded. It was probably a good idea to have the entire pack sniffing him out. 

“Alright. I may have a better idea than coming back here, if we want to do it that way.” The glare Stiles received from Derek was somewhat intimidating. 

Stiles continued on anyway. He unfolded the map of Beacon Hills he had brought with him. There were three spots circled, each labeled with a number one through three. “When I was in my dad’s office I took a look at the Barrow case.” Stiles pulled out his phone and pulled up the pictures he took of the file. “His file says he was an electrical engineer.”

“So?” Malia asked. 

“So, if Barrow was an electrical engineer, he could be hiding out at an electrical power station. People stick to what they know. We get his possessions, you use your magic sniffers, and we hit the three stations.”

“And what if you’re wrong?” Jackson was ever the optimist. 

“If I’m wrong, what do you have to lose? A couple hours of your precious time?”

“Why even bother with the heist then? If we already know where he could be, why don’t we just split up and check them out?”

“Can you find him in an abandoned factory with thousands of other scents that you don’t recognize? If you can then by all means, let's just go ahead and spend hours trying to find him in one of these places. Besides, if I am wrong then it’s a good idea to have his scent.” 

Stiles glanced around the room. Lydia was watching him with worry. Maybe she thought that the Barrow problem was related to her dream as well. 

“Okay. We will go with your idea.”

Stiles nodded at Derek in appreciation. He honestly thought the Alpha would have shot down his idea and called it stupid, whether is was or not. 

“Okay. Erica, Scott, and I will handle the police station. It should be relatively empty tonight, it's the weekend team, and my father is off duty tonight. We can all meet up at the ice skating rink, it’s closest to the center of the three points, and then- divide and conquer.”  

Stiles received a round of nods.

“What do you guys plan on doing with him when you find him?”

“Kill him.” Derek said it so easily. Stiles raised his eyebrows. 

“You want to just kill him?”

“He’s dangerous.”

“A lot of people are dangerous. You guys are dangerous. You don’t see me declaring you too dangerous to be left alive.”

Derek straightened and crossed his arms defensively over his chest.

“I’d like to see you try to kill him.” Jackson chuckled. Stiles assumed he was imagining Derek clawing out Stiles’ throat. 

“That's not the point! We should just turn him into the police. They will handle him.”

“And if he escapes again? If he actually successfully attacks and kills someone else?” 

Stiles didn’t say anything. He didn’t really know what to say. The silence seemed to drag on forever.

“I agree with Stiles.” 

Stiles turned to Scott and gave him a small smile, feeling thankful for the support.

Derek didn’t say anything, just shook his head and continued to brood, so Scott picked up the conversation. 

“Stiles, Isaac, and I can take the first location. Derek, Lydia, and Jackson, can take the second. And Erica, Boyd, and Malia can take the last one. Sound good?” 

Derek shrugged and Stiles wanted to yell at him to use his words. A shrug didn’t tell them anything. Was it a “I don’t give a shit,” shrug or a “You’re right,” shrug or something else entirely. Derek was attractive, but at this point Stiles thought that was all this man had going for him. 

“Why is he coming anyway? Like, I get that he should help with the police station because his dad is head cop, but to actually go after Barrow? He will just get in the way.”

Stiles hated Jackson sometimes.

“This is my plan too, Jackson. I’m going.” Stiles snapped. 

“No, you’re not. You, stay.” Derek’s eyes flashed red at Stiles. 

Alarms seemed to go off in Stiles’ mind. It was like being cornered by a very large, powerful animal. The Alpha had flashed his werewolf eyes at him but he was still breathing. For now at least. Maybe they would kill him after he lived through his usefulness. Stiles knew he was being ridiculous and that none of them were going to kill him, it didn’t stop him from thinking about it though. Stiles finally managed to form coherent sentences to reply with.

“You aren’t my Alpha. You don’t get to decide when I stay and when I go. I’m not one of your puppies.”

Stiles ignored the fact that several pack members, mainly Scott and Lydia, seemed to outwardly flinch when he declared himself not a pack member. The action surprised him. He had figured they just barely qualified as friends. It stuck him that he didn’t know much about pack dynamics and whether or not simple things like letting an outsider into one’s home held a different meaning to werewolves. Stiles so very much wanted to learn more about them. However, now was not the time to be considering such things.

At this moment in time he couldn’t have an overprotective pack with trust issues limiting or controlling his decisions. He didn’t care whose feelings he hurt. He was as much a part of this thing with Barrow as they were.

Derek’s eyebrows were furrowed in confusion and anger. At least that’s how Stiles interpreted it. He was still learning how to interpret the eyebrow movement. They were micro expressions, Stiles had googled how to read faces and stumbled upon the study. Stiles had spent hours searching the web and watching videos on it.

Stiles was pretty sure that Derek was clenching and unclenching his fists in an attempt to restrain himself from knocking Stiles out. Stiles appreciated the gesture.

“No, but you’re a human. You’ll just get in the way.”

“Need I remind you that I’m the one who found Barrow in the first place? I came up with part of the plan. And,” Stiles added fiercely, “I am more than capable of handling myself.”

Derek let out a growl before reaching for Stiles’ metal bat. It was sitting on the counter next to the map. Derek tossed it at Stiles. Stiles flinched before he stumbled backward toward the main part of the loft as he tried to catch it. It landed in his hands clumsily. As he caught it something hooked itself behind his legs. It caught Stiles off guard and he fell backward abruptly. He landed on his backside and yelped at the impact. 

His body slammed against the hard floor and he cursed at the pain that shot itself through his body. His eyes had shut momentarily before opening again. When Stiles’ vision cleared he took stock of  his surroundings and situation, piecing everything together. Derek was partially ontop of him with his claws lightly pressed against his neck.

“You would be dead right now.”

“You’re also a werewolf. Barrow is human.” Stiles managed in between his self-analysis of his injuries. Nothing was broken, just bruised and complaining.

“You have no idea what you are up against. Barrow is a murderer. You are just- just-”

“Human? Thank you for repeating the obvious for the hundredth time. I’m human, I know.” Stiles stated, his eyebrows rising and lowering as he spoke. Stiles sometimes really hated werewolves. “Because I’m human I’m useless, right? Because I’m clumsy, spastic, and have the attention span of an infant? I’ve heard it all before, the only difference was it came from my classmates and fellow humans rather than a bunch of werewolves. I’ll tell you something though, it hurts a hell of a lot more coming from them than it does from you.” Stiles didn’t yell. He didn’t have the energy to, he was mentally and emotionally worn out. 

Stiles gave Derek a rough shove against his broad chest with the bat, pushing the Alpha werewolf away. He stood slowly, rejecting Scott’s outstretched hand, and rolled his neck. Derek rose to his feet much slower than Stiles did.

“I’m going with you guys, whether you like it or not. I may be human, but that doesn’t make me any weaker than you guys. Cute power play move though, however, just because I normally bottom doesn’t mean I’ll just roll over and play nice.” 

Stiles thought he heard a small gagging noise come from Jackson but he ignored it. He couldn’t help that humor, sarcasm, and innuendos were his instinctive defence mechanism. 

When Derek didn’t say anything, Stiles took it as a good sign. 

“Scotty, we should get going.” Stiles finally turned toward Scott. He was seeing Scott’s angry expression for the first time, and it wasn’t directed at him. Scott’s anger was directed at Derek. 

“Scotty. Let’s go. Erica, you coming? We’ll see the rest of you at the ice skating rink” Stiles placed everything back into his bag and turned toward the loft door. 

“Yeah. Right behind you.”

When Erica caught up to him she looped her arm through his.

“In another life I would totally be in love with you. That was hot.” She said with a playful smile resting on her lips. Stiles recalled his previous thought of being in love with Lydia in another life and smiled.

“Careful, Boyd might hear you.”

She gave him a small shrug.

“He knows.”

Stiles let out a small laugh. 

Scott, Erica, and Stiles piled into his jeep. Stiles drove in silence while Erica talked the whole way. He was content in just listening to her. She was still hung up on Stiles falling onto his ass and getting back up with dignity.

Outside of the station, Erica finally fell silent and Stiles called his dad.

“Hey, dad.”

“Stiles.”

“You still at work?”

“No. I just pulled into our driveway.”

“Okay. Make sure you eat the chicken wrap I left you in the fridge.”

“Alright. You called just for that? Really? Have fun at Scott’s.”

“I’m not fifteen anymore, dad. We don’t-”

“Goodbye, Stiles.”

His father hung up on him and Stiles huffed in annoyance. 

“Ready?” Scott asked from the back seat. Erica had called shotgun and Stiles couldn’t bring himself to break the shotgun rule even with Scott’s puppy eyes looking at him with overwhelming sadness and disappointment. 

“Yeah. Let’s do this.”

The three of them crouched by the perimeter door of the precinct and Stiles rehashed the plan. Erica rolled her eyes and repeatedly told him that she knew not to take anything they didn’t need and that she knew the plan. 

Stiles slid the first card into the scanner of the service door by the dumpster. Stiles knew for a fact that no one used it, he was at the station often enough to basically know everyone's usual schedule. The door opened with a little beep and Stiles let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

“Okay, Scott. You wait here. Text me if there is someone coming or if there is an emergency.”

“Got it.”

Stiles pushed the door open and entered the station. Erica followed closely behind him. The two of them stayed low as they crept through the building. The back office was empty and the lights were dimmed but Stiles knew that at any moment someone could walk through the doors. Stiles turned to Erica, raised his eyebrows and tapped his ears. He wanted to know if she could hear anything. She cocked her head to the side before shaking it. Stiles nodded and the two moved forward. They stayed low and moved quickly across the room. Stiles had the second key out and ready before they reached the locked door. He slid the key down the reader and a beep signaled the approval. He opened the door in one fluid motion and closed it behind Erica. 

“We are looking for a box with Barrow’s name on it.” Stiles whispered. Erica nodded in understanding and the two of them took opposite sides of the room to search for it. The occasional ruffling of moving boxes or plastic spiked Stiles’ anxiety. His thoughts were screaming “too much noise, too much noise!” at him as he and Erica searched. He pushed the thoughts aside. He knew they weren’t actually making that much noise.

Erica was the one to find it.

“Stiles.”

Stiles made his way over to her. She had removed a box from the top of a filing cabinet. He hunched over where it sat on the floor and pulled it open. Inside, wrapped in several plastic evidence bags, were Barrow’s possessions and the bloody hospital gown he had been wearing. 

“They will notice it’s gone at some point. We need to hurry up and find him before then.”

Erica nodded her understanding and reached inside the box for the hospital gown. Stiles placed the box back on the filing cabinet and crouched back down next to Erica. They had what they came for, they could leave now.

When Stiles reached to open the evidence room door, Erica grabbed his arm and prevented him from opening it. He glanced at her and she shook her head. Just as understanding struck Stiles, the office door opened. Stiles and Erica were safely hidden in the evidence room but Stiles could feel his heart rate increase in response to the fear building up inside his chest. The Deputy, Stiles didn’t know who, walked past the evidence door and retrieved something from one of the desks in the back office. Stiles and Erica waited for the Deputy to leave. It felt like years before the unexpected Deputy was gone.

With Erica’s approval, Stiles eased the door open slightly and waited a few moments before pulling it open fully. The two of them hurried to the other side of the room, moving behind the desks to keep out of sight of the windows. Stiles felt incredible lucky.

Finally outside, Stiles could breathe a little easier. His anxiety had died down a bit. Stiles could feel the rush of adrenaline move throughout his body. They had done it. They stole from the evidence lock up in the station. 

Stiles wanted to throw up; just a tiny bit.

Scott looked very relieved to see them exit through the service door. 

“Dude, your dad just pulled up. I was gonna call you in like twenty seconds.”

“My dad?”

“Yeah.”

“What the hell is he doing back here?”

Scott shrugged. 

Stiles slid his hand through his hair and watched Erica fiddle with the evidence bag. Her nose crinkled with disgust as she opened the bag. 

“This is disgusting.”

“What did you expect?” 

Stiles whipped out his cellphone and dialed his father’s number before pressing enter and putting the phone next to his ear.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling my dad.” Stiles replied to Scott. 

His father answered the phone and Stiles turned away from Scott.

“What’s up, Stiles?”

“Hey, dad. Sorry to trouble you. I left a piece of paper on my desk that I need and I was hoping you could just go take a picture of it and text it to me.”

“I would kid, but I got called back into the station.”

“What? Why?” Stiles feigned surprise.

“A missing person’s was just filed. You and Scott be careful, alright?”

“Of course, dad.”

“I’m sorry I’m not home to send you what you need.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it. I’ll see you at home.”

Stiles hung up and turned toward Scott. 

“A missing person in Beacon Hills? What are the chances that this is completely unrelated to Barrow.”

Scott shook his head. 

“Very low.”

“Great. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

The Heist Squad, that’s what Stiles decided to call himself, Scott, and Erica because they deserved an awesome team name after the stuff they just pulled, headed to the meet up point. 

Everyone was there when Stiles pulled Roscoe into the parking lot. Stiles let out a low whistle. There was an impressive mini line up of vehicles, a sleek black camaro sat parked next to a silver porsche. Even Lydia’s Toyota prius fit in with them better than Stiles’ jeep did. 

“You guys got it?” Isaac raised his eyes in disbelief.

“Of course. It was a genius plan.” Stiles defended. 

A head nod was Isaac’s simple reply.

“Good job.” 

Stiles couldn’t help his smug smile that followed Derek’s acknowledgement of their success. He had a feeling Derek wasn’t the type to hand out compliments and encouragements willy-nilly. 

It must have been an odd sight, a group of nine people standing awkwardly in the middle of the ice skating rink parking lot. Erica brought the evidence bag with her. The odd sight got weirder when a few of the members began passing around and smelling the clear bag with bloody rags inside. 

“Just rip it and take a piece with you.”

“This is police evidence.”

The ripping noise generally associated with ripping clothing silenced any more of Stiles’ protests. Instead of focussing his attention on the group he let his mind wander. 

The skating rink was still open, as it would be until nine. Stiles kind of wanted to abandon the plan and go ice skating. His eyes lingered on the rink for a moment too long and when he turned, Lydia and Stiles locked eyes. She gave him a knowing look and the memory of skating with her resurfaced. He could feel the skates against the ice, the sound of metal connecting with ice, voices distant, and the cold touch of ice on his skin whenever he fell. 

Malia’s voice broke his reverie.

“Alright. Let’s find this bastard.” 

Isaac followed Stiles and Scott to the jeep and silently got in the backseat. They rode together in silence. It was the eery kind of silence that haunted ones nightmares. Stiles wanted to enjoy the silence in a positive way but it made him feel as if they were heading straight for their deaths. 

The drive seemed to take forever but they got there. Stiles followed Scott out of the vehicle and toward the factory. It was like one of those scenes from the many horror movies Stiles had watched. He was acting like one of the stupid characters that wandered straight into danger. Having werewolves by his side made him feel only a little better.

“Do you guys smell anything?”

“I only smell electricity.”

“Electricity has a smell?”

“Everything has a smell, Stiles.”

Stiles glanced around the abandoned area. The werewolves could smell electricity but nothing else. 

“Should we take a look inside?”

Isaac’s phone rang and he answered it quickly.

“Yeah? - Okay, I’ll let them know.” Isaac hung up. 

“That was Boyd. They didn’t find anything. They are headed over to Derek.”

“But what if he is here?”

“I don’t smell him. Scott, do you?”

“No.”

“There you go.”

“The scent of electricity if overpowering your senses. We don’t-” Stiles cut himself off and turned back to the power station. Stiles whispered his next thoughts. “He is here.”

“We just said we don’t smell him.” 

“Yeah, I got that. It’s because you smell electricity.”

“Yeah?”

“This is one of the abandoned stations. You shouldn’t be able to smell that.”

Scott’s eyebrows shot upward and he turned toward the power station. 

“Oh.”

“I’ll call Boyd and Derek.”

“You do that. Scotty and I are going to have a peek inside.”

“We are?”

“Yes, Scott. Aren’t you supposed to be a brave werewolf?”

“I’m not afraid.”

“Good. Then lead the way.”

Stiles brought his metal bat with him as they made their way into the building. Isaac would be following after them shortly. 

“We should wait for backup.”

“There is no way Barrow doesn’t know we are already here, Scott. He could take off by the time they get here. You got this, you’re a werewolf.”

“I know what I am, Stiles.”

“No, really? I was sitting here thinking that you had confused yourself with being a chicken or something.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

The two quieted. 

Stiles gripped his bat as they got farther into the building. The sound of electricity popping and crackling filled his ears. He instinctively flinched the first couple times before adjusting to it.

They entered a room lined with metal boxes Stiles assumed were transformers and the like. The occasional metal fence cordoned off specific pieces. 

The first thing Stiles noticed was the lack of Barrow, the second thing was the girl tied up to one of the fences. Scott was already by her side, moving her hair away from her face and checking to see if she was conscious. 

Stiles turned his focus away from the girl and Scott. He could hear the electricity buzzing  but he couldn’t see it. Stiles heard a shoe hit the ground quietly and swung his bat as he turned toward the person creeping up behind him. Stiles pulled the bat back just in time for avoid striking Isaac. He let out a breathe of relief. He was glad it hadn’t actually been Barrow behind him. 

“What the hell, Stiles!” Isaac looked pissed and somewhat terrified by the fact that he almost got a bat to the face.

“You shouldn’t creep up on people like that.”

“So you want me to just announce myself to the entire room?”

“It’s better than getting a bat to the face.”

“I would have dodged.”

“You are such a liar.”

A yell of surprise and pain cut off any retort Isaac may have had. 

Stiles whipped around to face Scott. Isaac was already shifted and lunging across the room by the time Stiles registered Barrow holding a electrical wire. The wire was spewing white sparks. 

Scott was writhing on the floor beside the girl with jet black hair. She was still tied up but appeared to be coming to. Her head rolled back against the metal fence and she was struggling to open her eyes. Stiles elected to let Scott and Isaac handle Barrow, so he dropped to his knees beside the girl opposite of Scott. He could hear the sound of fighting and electricity behind him as he spoke to her.

“Hey, hey. You okay? What’s your name?”

“Kira.”

“Hi, Kira. I’m Stiles. We are accidently rescuing you.”

“Stiles?”

“Yeah, I know, it’s a weird name-”

“Not that. Can you untie me?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Stiles reached behind her and struggled with the wire. 

Stiles risked a glance toward Isaac and Scott. Scott was finally back on his feet and he and Isaac were doing their best to avoid the sparks of electricity spewing from Barrow’s weapon of choice. Stiles turned back to Kira. She had her eyes open, honestly Stiles shouldn’t have been surprised, and they were glowing. The golden hue was vibrant and dangerous. 

“Tell me you aren’t a werewolf.”

“What? No!” Kira looked surprised and off center by the accusation. After a hesitant moment she answered. “I’m a Kitsune.”

“No idea what that is. Okay. Just another addition to the giant list of shit I don’t know about the supernatural.” Stiles went back to work on the wires tangling around Kira. 

“Who are you?”

“Stiles. Please don’t tell me you have a concussion and memory loss going on right now.”

“No. I know your name. What are you people doing here? How did you find this place?”

“We were tracking Barrow. Aha!” Stiles pulled the wire apart and freed Kira from the fence. 

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem. Here, let’s get you out of here.”

“I’m fine. I can handle myself.” Kira grunted as she made a move to stand. Stiles instinctively reached out to give her a hand. Rather than turn him away, Kira took his hand with a small nod of thanks. “On second thought, it looks like your friends have it under control.”

Stile stole a glance in Scott’s and Isaac’s direction. They had Barrow cornered and seemed to be in mostly one piece. 

“Yeah. Back up is on it’s way, they should be here in a few minutes.” 

Kira leaned on Stiles and the nearby metal fence for support. 

They made it a few feet down the fence and toward the exit before a mild electrical shock ran through Stiles’s body and for a few moments his limbs failed him. Kira let go of him and the shock stopped. 

Stiles struggled to collect himself, willing his heart to regulate it’s beating pattern. It felt as if one of those joy buzzer devices had shocked his entire body rather than just his hand. Stiles watched Kira fall to her knees in his peripheral, however not in the same manner he did. She appeared to be drawing electricity from the fence. 

Stiles glanced over to where Scott, Isaac, and Barrow were. Scott and Isaac had Barrow pinned to the fence, that unfortunately meant that the electrical line he was using to injure the werewolves was sending currents through the fence. 

“Scott!” Stiles’ voice croaked as he yelled Scott’s name. Scott glanced over and Stiles could see the situation register in Scott’s eyes. 

Kira finally seemed to have finally gathered the strength to unclench her fingers and free herself from the fence. 

“You okay?” Stiles tentatively rested his hand on her shoulder. 

“I’m fine.” She huffed and struggled to take in air, “Perk of being a Kitsune.”

“Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Yeah.”

Stiles led Kira down the way Scott, Isaac, and he had come in. They stumbled out just as a black camaro, silver porsche, and prius flew into the makeshift parking lot. The brakes were slammed and the next thing Stiles knew someone was pulling his unused bat from his hand and helping him support Kira.

“Is Barrow in there?”

It was Derek. Derek had his hand firmly placed against Stiles’ lower back, guiding him toward the cars.

“Yeah. Scott and Isaac had him pinned. I didn’t know he would put up such a fight.”

“Okay. Boyd and I will go in and give them a hand. The rest of you stay out here.”

“Derek, this power station shouldn’t be online. It might overload the system and cause a city wide blackout.”

“We’ll be careful.”

Stiles felt the cold rush him when Derek removed his hand. Sure, his body ached a little less, but he was suddenly aware of the cold breeze blowing. 

“Who is she?”

Stiles led Kira toward his jeep. She was limping so he moved slowly.

“Erica, this is Kira. She is a Kitsune.”

“A what-in-ae?”

“Kitsune. No idea what it is. Sounds cool though, right?”

Kira slid gracefully into the passenger seat of Stiles’ jeep, her head resting against the seat. 

Stiles didn’t like waiting outside. He wanted to be inside where the action was, helping them take down Barrow. 

Would now be the time to call his father? 

No. Probably not.

Stiles decided it would be a good idea to wait. It was too big of a risk with the werewolves shifting to fight. He tapped his fingers against the side of his leg as he watched the doorway with anticipation. 

A loud boom erupted from the building and Stiles jolted in surprise. His arms shot up and over his head and he stumbled backward a bit. The group around him seemed to mimic his actions. 

Stiles turned toward Jackson.

“Tell me you hear electricity.”

Jackson shook his head.

“It’s dead quiet now.”

“Great. That’s just great. I told him. I fucking told him.”

Stiles was ninety-nine percent sure that the town would be going through a blackout. He hoped everyone inside was fine, and if they were he would be giving them a major talking to. The police certainly knew about this now, they were probably sending an officer this way. Stiles made his way over the passenger’s side of the jeep and popped open the door.

“Sorry.” Stiles apologized to Kira as he reached into the glovebox to retrieve the police radio he had borrowed. Sure enough dispatch had just issued the order to check it out. In addition to Parish responding to the call, his father responded as well. He listened for a while before he shoved the police scanned back into it’s home and left Kira alone in the jeep once again.

“Dammit.” Stiles resisted the urge to chew on his finger nails.

Movement caught his attention.

Isaac, Scott, Boyd, and Derek exited the building. No Barrow in sight. Stiles assumed the worst. Derek still had Stiles’ bat in his hand and Stiles felt a little smug that the werewolf had taken it inside with him. Although he could have taken it in just to make sure Stiles didn’t follow them. Stiles liked to think it was for another reason entirely, although he didn’t know what reason specifically. 

“You guys need to get out of here. Police are on their way. Barrow?”

“He killed himself.”

“He what?” That hadn’t been what Stiles had been expecting.

“Trust me, it wasn’t something we had been expecting. We agreed not to kill him.”

“I know. I trust you guys. Why would he kill himself though?”

“Can we save this for later? Some of us have already dealt with enough cops for one lifetime.” 

As much as Stiles wanted to argue and think about all of this now, Derek was right. It would have to wait.

“What about her?” Lydia gestured toward Stiles’ jeep.

Stiles followed Lydia’s line of sight. Kira sat, looking rather nervous, in the passenger seat of his jeep. 

“I’ll stay with her.” Stiles supplied

“Me too.”

“Good thinking, Scott. Not like that wasn’t already the plan.” 

Scott gave his a small smile and shrug. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“We can talk to her when the police are handled.”

The group broke apart heading to their respective cars. Rather than stick around with Scott, Stiles, and Kira, Isaac took off toward Lydia’s car where Erica and Boyd were already piling in.

The feeling of having forgot something ghosted Stiles’ brain. It took a moment before it struck him.

“Derek!”

Derek turned back toward Stiles and raised his eyebrows in response.

“My bat.” Stiles pointed at the object.

Derek looked down at the bat in his hand before looking up at Stiles. He walked a few paces back towards Stiles before tossing him the bat. This time Stiles was ready. Stiles caught the bat with ease. 

Stiles didn’t miss the small smile that appeared and disappeared on Derek’s face. It didn’t last long, but Stiles had seen it. It made Stiles smile to himself. 


	16. Aftershock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Where are we going?”
> 
> “The loft.”
> 
> Stiles outwardly groaned.
> 
> “We can’t just call it a night and go home?”
> 
> “Stiles-”
> 
> “Fine.”
> 
> “It won’t take long.”
> 
> “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I didn't post last week! I was working on this chapter and the following one. Midterms are done and over with but I've got a ton of essays and the only thing I want to work on is this xD  
> I may post the next one early to make up for last week.   
> Sorry for any errors!   
> Please comment! <3

“Stiles.”

“Sheriff.”

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“I found you at a crime scene.”

“Oh, right. That. You see…”

“No games, Stiles.”

“I saved someone. Scott and I saved someone. My bad. Next time I’ll just turn around and walk away.”

“That’s not what I meant. What the hell were you doing here in the first place? How did you find him? Barrow’s a dangerous person!”

“I made a guess through deductive reasoning. Scott and I thought it would be cool. An abandoned power station late at night! Come on, we didn’t actually think we would find him. Lucky we did though cause uh, Kira would be dead.”

“Stiles, I’m serious-”

“So am I!”

The Sheriff ran a hand down his face and they stood there quietly for a few moments. His father sighed and Stiles knew he had won the argument. Could it even count as an argument? Stiles knew his father was just worried.

Stiles didn’t feel great about lying to his father. It was a moment longer before his father spoke again. 

“You found yourselves here in the right place at the right time. I’ll give you kids that. You saved a girl’s life tonight.”

“What can I say? I take after my pops.”

Stiles was standing a few yards from his jeep talking with his father while Scott was sitting calmly in the passenger seat. Kira had been escorted by Parish to the Deputy’s vehicle, apparently she was the missing person the Sheriff had gotten a call about. 

When the police had arrived they cordoned off the building and interrogated Stiles, Scott, and Kira. During this time, crime scene photos were taken and the coroner had removed Barrow’s body from the building. 

“You are going to have to come back to the station though, son. Both of you.”

“I know. I’ll follow you down to the station.”

His father gave him a look before clapping his hand against Stiles’ shoulder. 

“You did good, kid. You’re not off the hook though. We have a city wide power outage on our hands now.” 

Stiles watched his father walk away. Alone again, Stile yawned involuntarily, making him realize just how tired he actually was. The adrenaline of everything had started to wear off. He shuffled his feet back toward Roscoe and got into the vehicle.

“So?” Scott asked.

“What, you weren’t listening in?”

“No. I don’t enjoy invading people’s privacy.”

“We have to go down to the station for our statements.”

“Didn’t we do that already?”

“That wasn’t really a statement, Scott. We kind of just blurted out a quick makeshift story. It’ll go down as self defence in addition to Barrow’s suicide. Thank you for taking the heat on that.”

“You weren’t even in there when it happened, it seemed like the best thing to say.”

It had been an unspoken unanimous agreement to keep anything supernatural related out of their retelling on the events. Kira had told the officers that Barrow had knocked her out when she went to retrieve the mail and she had woken up tied to the fence when Stiles and Scott arrived. She left out her glowing eyes and interaction with the electricity. Stiles hadn’t needed to change much of his story. He had gotten Kira out of there, and that had been that. Scott had told the Sheriff that after Stiles and Kira had gotten out, Barrow attacked him. Scott then claimed to use a technique from lacrosse to knock Barrow back against one of the metal fences. Barrow had electrocuted himself with the power line and the metal fence, although it was unclear whether that was actually intentional or not. 

Stiles turned the ignition and the beautiful noise, caused by Roscoe’s ducttaped engine chugging to life, filled his ears. 

“Let’s go get this over with. Did you call your mom? The hospital’s power is probably out.”

“I didn’t. I’ll do that now though.”

Stiles focused on driving behind the Sheriff’s cruiser while Scott called his mom. 

“Hey, mom. - Yeah, we’re fine. - I know, power is out everywhere. - We may have been involved. - Stiles knows, mom. - No, he figured it out. - I’m sorry. - I will. - Okay, you too.”

Stiles could only hear half of the conversation but he could pretty much guess what Melissa McCall was saying based off of Scott’s answers.

When Scott ended the call he turned to Stiles. 

“My mom says you're a little shit.” 

Stiles grinned. He couldn’t help it, it wasn’t the first time he had been called that.

“I wrote an essay for her, I don’t know how I could possibly be a little shit.” Then as an afterthought he added, “Did she like it?”

“Yeah. She suggested I get you to tutor me.”

Stiles’ grin only grew. 

“She’s still pissed at you for not telling her you knew.”

“We agreed that it was good that I hadn’t told her.”

“Yeah, but-”

“I’ll apologize to her. Maybe I’ll bake her something.”

“You can cook?”

“What can I say? I’m a jack of all trades.”

They rode the rest of the way making small talk and going over the day’s events. It had been one hell of a day. Stiles hoped a day like this was a once in a lifetime type of thing. 

“You think I’ll see her again?”

“Who?”

“Kira.”

“Uhh. Why?”

“She seemed nice.”

Stiles’ eyes widened in realization and a goofy smile touched his lips.

“You have a crush.”

“No, I don’t. I’m just worried about her.”

“Dude, she is fine. You saved her life. I thought it was interesting to find out she is a Kitsune though. Never heard of one of those before.”

“Yeah. You think she is okay though?”

“Yes, Scott. Parish with take care of her. They will notify her parents and everything.”

Stiles stole a glance in Scott’s direction. His friend seemed to be stuck in thought, looking rather pathetic.

“I’m sure you will see her again, Scott. She will probably be at the station when we get there. You can go up to her, say hi, and talk to her all you want.”

“Is it weird to do that the night she got attacked?”

“I don’t know Scott. I've never helped save someone's life before. I don’t know what is weird and what isn’t anymore.”

“Right.”

“Why do you always assume I know the answer to things?”

Scott shrugged.

“You handle everything so well. The werewolf thing, the kidnapping, breaking into the station, Barrow. I’ve been dealing with the werewolf thing for years and I still don’t know everything or have the calm you do.”

“I am not calm, Scott. Like- ever. The whole thing with breaking into the station? Terrified me. If we had gotten caught I’m pretty sure my dad would never trust me again.”

“Then why did you help us?”

“Because it needed to be done. If I can help, I’m going to help. I’m not gonna turn and run away just because I’m scared.”

“Thank you, Stiles.”

“You’re welcome, Scott.”

“I mean it. You really -”

“Shut up, Scott.”

The station was at completely dark. A few battery run lights lit up the main room. It was only the Sheriff, Parish, Kira, Scott, and Stiles. Everyone else was out trying to handle the power outage. 

“Alright. I know none of you want to be here, but I have a feeling that now is the best time to do this so let’s handle this quickly. Stiles, you first.”

Parish cleared his throat and turned toward Stiles. 

“Can you tell me what happened tonight?”

“Scott and I were just hanging out.”

“You were just hanging out at an abandoned power station?”

“No. We thought it would be kind of cool to check this place out. We didn’t actually think we would find anything.”

“Alright. What happened when you got to the power station?”

The whole thing didn’t take very long. Stiles went first, Scott went second, and then it was Kira’s turn. Kira had caught on very quickly to what Scott and Stiles didn’t want to be said about Barrow or the entire night in general. 

“They saved my life.” 

Stiles watched Scott struggle to keep from beaming. It was obvious to Stiles that Scott liked to help people.  

“Alright. Kira, Parish can give you a ride home-”

“We can take her.” 

Stiles turned to Scott and raised his eyebrows. Scott had just offered up Stiles’ services. Scott gave him a small shrug and Stiles caved. 

“Kira, if you want a ride, Scott and I don’t mind giving you a ride.”

Kira glanced between Scott and Stiles before nodding. 

“Sure.”

As the three of them turned to leave the station, Stiles’ father called out to him.

“Stiles. You mind staying for a moment longer?” 

Stiles tossed Scott the jeep keys and turned back to his dad. He crossed his arms and waited for the room to clear. Parish excused himself and Scott and Kira headed to the jeep. 

“What’s up?”

“Please be more careful, Stiles. Finding out you were involved- I’m just worried. You and Scott have had a rocky relationship since the beginning and I want you to be safe.”

That hadn’t been what Stiles was expecting. Not even close. His father looked so concerned. 

“I know. I’m sorry. We didn’t think anything like that was going to happen.”

His father nodded as he stood from where he was leaning against a table. His father gestured for him to come closer and Stiles complied. The hug was warm and careful. His father gave him a small squeeze and they parted. It had only lasted a few seconds but Stiles continued to feel the warmth of the hug even after they parted. 

“Now get out of here. I probably won’t be home until late with the power being out and all.”

“Yeah. Right. Sorry about that.”

“Take care of Kira, alright? Make sure she gets home safe.”

“Okay.”

Stiles exited the station feeling a weight pressing against his chest. He hated lying to his father. How bad could it be to just tell him the truth? Then again, he was pretty sure his father had stopped listening to a lot of what he said since Stiles had learned how to lie. The older Stilinski wouldn’t believe him. Claudia would though. His mother would.

Stiles shook the thoughts from his head as he approached Roscoe. The rattling of the engine made pushing thoughts of his mother aside much harder but he managed. Scott was sitting in the back while Kira was sitting in the front. They were talking about something; whatever it was it made Kira smile. 

Stiles tapped the hood of the jeep lightly as he walked around to the driver’s side as not to startle Kira by just opening the door and getting in. Stiles settled himself in the seat before taking a breath and turning to Kira. 

“Do you know the way to your place from here?” 

“Yeah.”

“Okay, Navi, let’s get you home.”

Stiles shifted the jeep into reverse and began pulling out of the parking space. He watched Kira mouth something to Scott. 

“Navigator.” Scott replied quietly.

There was a quiet “oh, okay” that followed in response. 

The ride was quiet except for Kira giving Stiles directions to her place. He knew the roads well and knew the general area of where she lived based on the address she rattled off, but having the directions verbally spoken really helped. There were little to know cars on the road, probably due to the deputies driving around and asking people to stay off the road unless it was an emergency. 

Stiles pulled up and parked in front of Kira’s house. The entire neighborhood was dark except for one house down the street which was probably running a generator. 

“Thank you. For saving my life. And the ride. I know you guys have your own secrets but now you know mine. You can’t tell anyone.”

“Don’t worry. We won’t tell anyone.” Scott supplied quickly.

“Kira, if you don’t mind me asking, what is a Kitsune?”

“It’s a fox spirit. It kind of runs in the family. A Kitsune is a trickster.”

“It runs in the family? So your parents know?”

“Yeah. My mom is a Celestial Kitsune. I get is from her.”

“A Celestial- Okay. We are going to have to talk about what happened tonight at some point, Kira.” 

Kira nodded. 

“I know. Scott gave me his number.”

Of course he did.

“Okay. When the power is back on we can meet somewhere. Try not to tell your parents too much.”

“They are going to want to know.”

“I know, but foxes and wolves don’t get along in the wild.”

Kira nodded and Stiles ended the conversation there.

“Scott, why don’t you walk Kira to the door?”

“Yeah, okay.” 

Stiles waited in the jeep while Scott walked Kira to the door. They spoke for a moment before Scott made his way back to the jeep. 

With Scott in the passenger seat, Stiles shifted the jeep into drive. 

“Where are we going?”

“The loft.”

Stiles outwardly groaned. 

“We can’t just call it a night and go home?”

“Stiles-”

“Fine.”

“It won’t take long.”

“Okay.”

Stiles was careful when driving down the empty and blacked out streets. With the lights not working it was especially frightening to be driving.

“Derek also has a generator.”

“Good for him.”

“You okay? You don’t look so good.”

“I’m tired, Scott. I got shocked by I-don’t-know-how-many volts of electricity. Barrow is dead. There is a Kitsune involved now. I had to lie to my dad. I’m just tired.”

“I’m sorry.” 

Stiles didn’t say anything in response to Scott’s apology, He didn’t even know why he was feeling upset and hurt over the night. The plan was mostly a success, they saved Kira’s life. It was supposed to feel good, so why did it feel like it wasn’t over? 

Stiles parked the jeep and together he and Scott made their way up to the loft. True to his word, Derek did in fact have a generator. The pack was gathered in the main part of the loft, a laptop in front of them. Whatever they had been watching was paused and forgotten when Scott opened the loft door and the two of them walked in. 

“How’d it go?” Isaac asked.

“Fine. Self defence. Left our statements and took Kira home.”

“She agreed to speak to us sometime soon about what happened tonight.” Scott added. 

“Are you okay?” Stiles raised his eyebrows. The unexpected question had been directed at him. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. I didn’t have to watch Barrow kill himself.”

“Yeah, but you’re-”

“I will seriously hit you with my bat if you use the word human.”

“I just meant that-”

“Isaac, drop it.” Derek spoke this time. 

“You said Kitsune?” Peter spoke from his place on the stairs. 

“Yeah. A fox spirit. It apparently runs in the family.” Scott supplied. Stiles was feeling very grateful for Scott’s mediation between himself and Peter. 

“Foxes and wolves don’t get along, you shouldn’t have left-”

“She is a person. You don’t leave people stranded without help.” Stiles interjected. 

“I was just going to suggest you scare her a bit to keep her from talking.”

“She won’t. Anyway, that’s not the thing we need to talk about right now.”

“Then what is, Stiles?” Derek again. 

“How did Barrow know?”

The room was silent. Stiles didn’t say anything. He wanted to see what they came up with. He already voiced his concern over the possible leak. Matt Daehler. He took photographs of the teen and countless of other people. If being a Kitsune worked anything like being a werewolf, then something would have shown in photos of Kira. Stiles didn’t want to accuse Matt of anything. They were friends after all. He so very much wanted Matt to not be involved but there were only so many things he could think of. Maybe Matt produced the photos and left them somewhere and Barrow ran across them. Maybe Barrow didn’t see the photographs at all. Maybe he saw one of them shift. 

“You mentioned someone before.” Of course Derek remembered that.

“Alright, but if it’s not him. How could he even be working with Barrow. Come up with something else. It has to be something else.”

“And if it is him?”

“Who the heck are you guys talking about?” Jackson interrupted. 

“Matt Daehler.” Stiles bit his lip and crossed his arms.

“The dude that is always taking photos of people on campus?”

Stiles nodded. 

“If it’s Matt then how do we not know you aren’t involved in all of this? You are always talking to him at practice. How do we know you aren’t the one working with Barrow.”

“Seriously?”

“Knock it off, Jackson. Stiles wouldn’t do that.”

“How do we know? Like really know. He said it himself. He used the photos to figure out what we are. How do we know he doesn’t have a grudge against the supernatural of something?”

Voices were raised and Stiles was hating every moment spent in the lost. Peter had piped in in support of Jackson’s theory, Scott and Lydia were defending Stiles and Stiles wanted to go home and sleep. 

“Enough! All of you, quiet.” Derek’s voice boomed through the loft and everyone fell silent. The sound made by the generator was the only noise that reverberated through the room. 

“Jackson does have a point. This can’t be a coincidence but I don’t think Stiles had anything to do with Barrow. Someone was helping Barrow though and this Matt kid is our only lead. So we follow the lead. Okay?” 

Stiles was a little shocked to hear Derek defend him against accusations of involvement but there was a million reasons he could have said that. One of which could have been because Stiles was in the room. If you were suspicious of someone, the smart thing to do was to not let them know you were on to them. Another reason could have been that he just didn’t think Stiles was capable of planning such an elaborate thing. Either way, Stiles didn’t feel great about it. 

“Okay. So how do we precede?” Stiles asked rather calmly. 

“We need to figure out a connection between Barrow and Matt. Something had to have happened that connects them.” 

“So we check their history.” Lydia piped in. “We go over anything that could have happened to Matt that made his path cross with Barrow’s.”

“Okay. We don’t confront him until we know anything for sure. Understood?” Derek looked pointedly at Jackson. Jackson shifted on the couch but nodded. 

“If it’s not Matt, we need to be thinking of other reasons for what happened. Scott, you need to talk to Kira. We need to know everything she knows. We need to figure this out before someone else gets hurt or goes after the pack again.” 

Stiles actually enjoyed watching this aspect of the pack dynamic. Something about seeing the younger werewolves and other pack members listen to their Alpha. They each had a place in the pack, a role, something they each contributed. Stiles tried to imagine having something like that. It was like a second family. 

“Alright. If that’s settled, I’m going home. Scott, you need a ride or are you staying?”

“I think I’m gonna stay for a while longer. I’ll walk you down though.”

“Hey, Stiles?”

“Yeah, Lyds?”

“Thank you for helping us.”

“Yeah.”

Scott and Stiles made their way down to where the jeep was parked. 

“Be safe on the road.”

“I will. I’ll let you know if my dad says anything about Barrow.”

“Thanks.”

Stiles pulled away from the building and inched his way down the roads toward home. 

True to his word, the Sheriff didn’t get home until early morning the next day. Stiles had spent most of the night sitting on the couch awake and waiting for his father. Stiles had spent an hour thinking about going to the hospital to make sure he was fine after being electrocuted but he felt fine. He didn’t want to waste money for a doctor he didn’t need to see. 

The power had come on two hours before the Sheriff turned up exhausted. 

“Go to sleep, Stiles.”

“I did.”

“Yeah? For how long.”

“A couple hours.”

“If your meds aren’t working we can go back and get the prescription checked, Stiles.” 

“It’s not the meds. I’m fine. I was just worried about you.”

“Kid, I’m the one who is worried about you.”

“You still have to go to your shift today?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna grab a couple hours of shut-eye before taking a shower and heading back in. There is still a lot needs to be handled after the blackout.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“It wasn’t your fault, kid. Go get some more sleep, please. You have class.”

“It’s Sunday.”

“Right. I meant tomorrow. Goodnight, kid.”

“Night, dad.”

With his father finally home, Stiles made his way upstairs to his room. Even if he couldn’t actually fall asleep he could do something useful like research Kitsunes and Barrow’s past. 


	17. Packnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles took a quick glance over his shoulder toward the pack. Derek was smiling at something Lydia had said and Stiles found himself wanting to hang out with the pack for the rest of the night.
> 
> Eric spoke before Stiles could.
> 
> “So do you want to get out of here too?”
> 
> Stiles’ lips twitched upward. If he said yes, it wouldn’t be fair to Eric since his mind would be somewhere else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't encourage underage drinking!  
> Now that it has been said, I really enjoyed writing this chapter. I'm sorry for any errors. I created a couple OCs for this chapter, I hope you don't mind.   
> I hope you enjoy it! Please leave comments! <3

The week following the power station incident went by and Friday night had come faster than expected, but Stiles was a man of his word. 

Most of the time. 

And this would be one of those times. 

Scott had brought up the entire bet on Wednesday after lacrosse practice. They made plans to do it that Friday night and Stiles agreed. He had lost the bet, and a deal was a deal, he had to go to packnight. Besides, they needed a break. 

They were still trying to figure out if Matt was connected or if Barrow had found the information on his own or from someone else. Stiles had tried to talk to him before lacrosse practice but Matt had brushed him off and left without a word. It was hard not to think Matt was involved with the odd way he was acting. Maybe he was just sick. 

Stiles decided they really needed to hit the reset button before one of them, mainly the restless werewolves, went off the deep end. 

What the hell was a packnight anyway? Did they shift and run around the woods yelling at the moon? Did they just wressle on the ground and play fight? Did they just sit at the loft and watch a movie or play games or something? 

He could see the latter, with alcohol involved, being pretty fun. Scott had told him that werewolves couldn’t get drunk unless the drink was laced with wolfsbane. 

Maybe he would make a few suggestions for the activities of their night. 

Stiles was mentally preparing himself for the limitless possible outcomes for what a packnight entailed when his phone rang. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, Stiles. Calling in that favor tonight.”

It took Stiles a few milliseconds to realize Danny was talking about the wingman favor.

“Tonight?”

“Yeah. A deal is a deal, man. If you are backing out on it-”

“No! I’m not. I said I would do it so I will. It’s not like I couldn’t use a night out-”

“Alright then. I’ll meet you at Sinema tonight.”

“Yeah, alright.”

Danny hung up and Stiles pressed his phone to his lips in thought. He couldn’t break either of the deals, not Scott’s packnight and not Danny’s wingman favor. Stiles had just dug himself into a hole. He should have asked Danny if they could reschedule. In the moment on the phone with Danny his mind had totally blanked and forgotten his other obligations. 

Maybe he could ask Scott to reschedule. 

No, that wouldn’t be a good idea with so many people involved in the plan. It would be better to just ask Danny to reschedule. 

Stiles sighed and rubbed his eyes in frustration. This was supposed to be a night to reset after the hellish week he had just experienced. It would make everything easier if the two could be done at the same time. 

At the same time. 

Stiles’ eyes widened in thought and he removed his phone from near his face. He could do it at the same time. 

Quickly, Stiles dialed Scott’s number.

“Stiles? Did something happen?”

“Hey, Scott. Yes and No. Do you do anything specific for packnight?”

“Uhh…” There was some hesitation on Scott’s part. “No, not really. Why?”

“Remember the thing I promised Danny when he loaned me the emulator I needed to enact your crazy plan?”

“My crazy plan worked.” 

“Yeah, because I was there. Well, he called in the favor tonight and I don’t want to cancel on either of you. I was thinking, since you don’t have anything specific planned for pack night, what if we all went out to the dance club Sinema? I know werewolves can’t get drunk but I can, and we can dance, talk, and you know- fun stuff.” Stiles rambled quickly. Maybe he could confuse Scott enough that his automatic response was a yes.

There was a small moment of silence and Stiles bit at his lip. If Scott didn’t agree to this he would have to call Danny back to reschedule. The thought gave him a bit of anxiety.

“Okay. Let’s do it. I think that’s a good idea.”

Stiles was rushed with the warm feeling of relief at Scott’s words.

“Awesome. And if there is something you usually do for your packnights we can do it after the club or something.”

“No worries, Stiles. We don’t do anything really. Like, at all.” 

“Okay. So, I’ll see you guys tonight.”

They ended the call and Stiles felt a little bit better. He really did need a night to just let loose and have fun. 

Stiles’ thoughts wandered to the pack. More specifically to the Alpha and Peter. Would they be joining them? A packnight would usually involve the whole pack, right? Stiles wouldn’t mind if Derek tagged along; that could be fun. He just hoped Peter didn’t feel compelled to join them.  

Stiles spend twenty minutes trying on different shirt and pant combinations. He hadn’t gone out in a while. Hadn’t gone out on any dates, or out with friends. He hadn’t remembered it being such a hassle. He imagined Scott telling him to just be casual and he eventually settled on a white t-shirt and his best pair of jeans. 

Stiles made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen. His father wasn’t home, and wouldn’t be for another half hour or so. He crouched in front on the refrigerator and popped the kickplate out of place. He reached down to retrieve the small baggie tucked safely away there. Stiles scanned through the number of cards in the bag before pulling out the one with the most recent picture. He zipped the bag up before tucking it back in its hiding place and securing the kickplate back in place. 

A few years back, Stiles had mastered the art of hiding things from his father. He tried his best to avoid keeping things hidden in his room, not that he thought his dad searched his room or anything, but because his father was an experienced officer, one with a good reputation, and Stiles didn’t want to ruin that reputation. The bedroom was always one of the first places checked when searching a suspect's possessions. No one would check the part of the fridge no one even knew the name of. 

With the fake ID secured in his wallet, Stiles left the house. He locked the front door behind him and jogged toward the jeep. Stiles subconsciously and repeatedly checked himself in the mirror as he drove toward the club. He ran his fingers through his hair and glanced at his white shirt for any stains. Eventually he realized what he was doing and made a conscious effort to concentrate on the road and the rhythm of his fingers against the steering wheel. 

Danny was waiting outside for Stiles. 

“So I invited some people. Don’t worry! I will not get distracted from the mission.” Stiles said as he approached.

“Don’t call it a mission.”

“Why? Missions are fun.”

“Just. No.”

“Alright. You good with more people though?”

“Yeah. Anyone I know?”

“Yeah. Scott, Jackson, Lydia, Isaac, and a couple others.”

Danny nodded along as Stiles listed the names.

“Cool. Do you want to head inside or should we wait for them?”

“We can head in.”

Stiles followed Danny to the door and inside. Stiles shot Scott a quick text letting him know that Danny and him were already in the club before tucking his phone back into his pockets and directing his attention to Danny. 

The building had grown over the years since Stiles had last been to Sinema. The music was loud and drowning, and the energy of the place was already pretty high. Just walking in made Stiles want to start dancing and having fun. Danny seemed to feel the same way; Stiles noticed how Danny tapped his feet with the rhythm and occasionally swayed. 

“Let’s get a drink.” Stiles followed behind Danny as they made their way to the bar. As expected, the ID came in handy. Danny whipped out his own and Stiles followed suit. The bartender glanced at the ID and their faces before giving his nod of approval and making the requested drinks. 

Stiles had finished his first drink by the time Scott and the rest of the pack arrived. He and Danny were dancing when he felt a hand tap his shoulder. He turned and was greeted by Scott’s dorky smile. Stiles gave him a small hug before greeting the rest of the group. Jackson, Lydia, Erica, Boyd, Isaac, Malia, Scott, and Derek. They were all there and they all looked hot. Stiles felt very plain in his white shirt and jeans, but was comforted by the fact that he knew these jeans made his butt look good. He also decided that werewolves had an unfair advantage of being creatures of the supernatural.

“Hey! Let’s grab a table by the back.” Stiles suggested when he struggled to understand the words coming out of their mouths.

Stiles tapped Danny’s shoulder and pointed toward on of the back tables. Danny nodded and gave Stiles a thumbs up before signalling him to lean in. He leaned toward Stiles and Stiles mimicked the movements, turning his ear so he could hear what Danny was saying. 

“You go ahead. I’ll be right over.”

Stiles nodded and turned to herd the rest of the group toward the back table. 

Away from the music, Stiles could hear much better. 

“I’m already a drink ahead of you guys. Please tell me you are going to get drunk so I’m not the only one making a fool of myself.”

Scott chuckled.

“We brought a special strain of wolfsbane just for the occasion.”

“Good. Then hurry up and get drunk. We need to go dance and then I have to do some scoping for Danny.” 

“I’ll go get the drinks.” Jackson volunteered. 

“I’ll help.” Isaac followed Jackson to the bar.

“Sorry to change your plans on you and all-”

“Plans?” Derek’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

Before Stiles could say anything about packnight, Danny came up behind him. 

“Stiles!”

Stiles smiled at Danny’s entrance.

“Danny, this is the group. Jackson and Isaac are at the bar. You know Scott and Lydia. There we have Malia, that’s Erica, next to her is Boyd, and finally that is Derek.” 

“Nice to meet you guys.” 

Stiles watched Danny’s eyes linger on Derek. He could understand why, Derek was built to perfection. Danny’s eyes lingering on Derek made Stiles’ stomach twist. He shouldn’t be thinking about this. He needed another drink. Where were Jackson and Isaac with the drinks? 

As if summoned, Jackson and Isaac appeared. They passed around the shots and other drinks. Stiles downed his shot, the burn traveling down his throat and warming his chest. He made a small noise as the liquid went down but other than that he thought he handled the poison liquid very well. When no one reached for their drinks other than Lydia, the only other human besides Danny and Stiles, it clicked. 

“Hey, Danny. Do you want another drink? Jackson’s an asshole who didn’t think of buying you one. This one's on me.” Stiles took pleasure in the anger that flashed across Jackson’s face. Danny looked almost startled at the realization that he didn’t have a drink in his hand. 

“Yeah, sure.”

Stiles led Danny away from the table and toward the bar. The werewolves probably needed to add the wolfsbane to their drinks and weren’t willing to do it in front of Danny. Stiles felt proud of the fact that he, a human, knew what they were doing. 

At the bar, after ordering and receiving his drink, Danny nudged Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles glanced in his direction and raised his eyebrows. 

“See the guys over there?”

Stiles glanced over to where Danny was looking.

“The two kinda dancing- that is considered dancing right?- over there?”

“Yeah. Wanna go dance?”

Stiles looked from the pack to the dance floor and back. Lydia looked like she was about to drag Jackson away from the table and toward the crowd of people to dance. Erica and Boyd had already made their way over the the dance floor. Scott was chatting with Malia, and Isaac, and Derek was glancing in their direction. He was sipping at his drink, having opted for something other than a shot. Stiles forced himself not to focus too much on Derek. Seeing Derek in a public space made him appear less intimidating and more approachable and Stiles was on a mission he refused to be distracted from.

Stiles looked back at the guys Danny pointed out.

“Which one did you want?” 

“The taller brunette. You can have the blondey.”

“Great. Okay, let’s go dance.” 

They were both attractive men, Stiles couldn’t deny that. Although he had been hoping he would at least be able to socialize and flirt with someone who was relatively his type. He had nothing against blondes, and he was sure the guy was nice, but he had a feeling there wouldn’t be any sort of connection for him. However, if he was going to do this, he was going to make sure they both had a good time. He was going to be a good wingman. 

Stiles and Danny made their way through the crowd of dancers, heat radiating off of everyone they passed. He had forgotten how crowded and sweaty these places could get. 

Stiles spotted Erica and Boyd dancing a few feet away. Malia had joined them and it looked as if Erica was teaching her how to dance. They were all smiling and enjoying themselves, even when another girl danced her way into their space to join them. 

Stiles turned his focus back to Danny and the two guys. Danny led the way in, and Stiles followed, a smile plastered on his face as he joined in. The two other guys were very accepting of Danny and Stiles’ intrusion. Stiles figured they were just two friends hanging out together. 

Stiles did enjoy himself with the blonde. He was fun, energetic, and really sweet. Stiles, however, had to constantly stop himself from giving snarky one liners and had to remember not to roll his eyes because a lot of people didn’t like it. Even when it was meant in a playful manner. 

When Scott found him, ten or so songs later, Stiles took it as a blessing. Scott came up behind him, a giant smile on his face. Stiles figured Scott was trying to pull him away for a moment but Stiles couldn’t in good conscience leave Eric, the guy he had been dancing with, alone while Danny danced with the other guy whose name was unknown to him. 

“Eric, this is Scott. Scott, this is Eric. I have to use the little boys room so why don’t you take my place?” Stiles gave Scott a small pat on the shoulder before walking away. He had enjoyed the way Scott’s eyes had flashed with panic, it had been adorable. He did feel kind of bad. He was pretty sure Scott was completely straight, but also knew that the guy was too nice to say no. A few moment later, when Stiles looked back at the two, Eric was getting Scott to loosen up. It was nice to see. 

Away from the dancing, Stiles could feel the effects of the alcohol he had consumed. He was probably a little bit drunk. Stiles didn’t really have to relieve himself, he just needed a break. Keeping up the facade was exhausting. Stiles wandered toward the bar. A bottle of water was probably a good idea. 

“Hey. A water please. Thanks.” 

Stiles couldn’t resist a quick up and down look at the bartender. He was an attractive-looking guy, kind of built like Derek. Stiles rubbed his eyes. There went his mind again. Back to Derek. Water was definitely a good idea. He imagined with a third drink he would walk up to Derek and ask him to dance. That would have just embarrassed him. Stiles wouldn’t be able to look anyone from the pack in the eye after that. 

Stiles waited patiently for his water to arrive. He hardly registered the guy who had entered his personal space. When their shoulders bumped, Stiles broke from his zone-out moment. He pulled away and turned to apologize to the guy.

“Sorry-”

“Hey, can-”

They spoke at the same time and Stiles smiled smally and shook his head. 

“Sorry, what were you saying?” 

The guy smiled back and Stiles felt oddly weird about the interaction.

“I was hoping I could buy you a drink.”

“Oh, thank you, but I’m good. Only water for me right now.”

“Are you sure? You’re turning down a free drink.”

“Sorry, I’m here with someone.” Stiles blurted out. It was one of those moments where his mouth decided filtering his speech was a bad idea. Stiles and the guy seemed to be processing what Stiles said at the same time. Stiles wasn’t about to correct himself though. He did come here with someone. A whole bunch of someones. Human and werewolf someones.

The guy raised a skeptical eyebrow. 

Stiles wondered how much the guy had seen of Stiles. Had he seen him dancing with Eric or talking to Danny? 

Stiles directed a quick glance over his shoulder to the pack. Derek, Erica, Boyd, Isaac, Lydia, and Jackson had gathered themselves together within the last few seconds and were enjoying a joke or something. Erica was in tears from laughing. Stiles kind of wanted to be in on the joke, laughing with them.

Stiles turned his attention back to the guy in front of him. Stiles watched the guy follow his line of sight toward the group. As they guy scanned the group he straightened his posture. Stiles wanted to roll his eyes. The guy was obviously trying to figure out which one Stiles was there with. Isaac was probably going to be the guy’s guess and-

“The dark haired bodybuilder?”

What?

Stiles glanced back over his shoulder. The guy was talking about Derek and Derek was looking at them. Derek was probably listening in with his werewolf hearing powers in that exact moment. 

Stiles didn’t know what to tell the guy. He either agreed, said Derek was the “someone” he was with, or disagreed and continued to find ways to turn down this guy’s advances. He could just outright tell him it was Isaac, but he had a feeling that if he attempted anything with Isaac to make it seem real, Isaac would freeze up and panic. He didn’t want to make anyone feel uncomfortable just because he didn’t want to deal with this guy’s advances. Maybe he could just claim he was with Eric or Scott. That seemed a bit more believable, especially since they had been dancing together earlier.  

Before Stiles could answer, an arm wrapped around his shoulders. Stiles inwardly froze in response to the random arm. 

“Something wrong, Stiles?”

Nope. 

Stiles glanced sideways up at his knight-in-shining-armor. 

“Not anymore, Der.” Stiles had given himself exactly two seconds to think about the use of the nickname. He had done it to sell it. That was it. Derek’s lips twitched in response to Stiles’ sudden use of a nickname. 

“Derek, this is- Sorry, I don’t know your name.”

The guy gave Stiles a curt smile. 

“Ryan. Well. It was nice speaking to you Stiles. I hope you two have a fun night.” 

Stiles and Derek stayed exactly where they were until Ryan was out of sight. Stiles let out a sigh of relief. That had ended much faster and much better than he thought it would. He had prepared himself with a list of pet names to call Derek incase he needed to sell it. 

He was almost sad when Derek removed his arm from his shoulder and moved to stand in front of him. Derek grabbed the bartender’s attention and ordered another drink. Stiles, who had completely forgotten about his water, leaned against the counter of the bar and ran his fingers through his hair. 

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

Stiles rolled his eyes, catching a glimpse of a small smile playing on Derek’s lips. He was going to make Stiles say it outloud. 

“For helping me handle that guy.”

“No problem. He didn’t really seem like your type anyway.”

Oh this was going to be interesting. 

“And what do you think my type is?”

Derek gave Stiles a quick look up and down before making eye contact. Stiles watched Derek pause before he said anything. 

“Well?”

“Probably someone close to your height or taller. Sarcastic. Good dancer.-”

“You think being a good dancer is a requirement for being my type?”

“Come on, they have to be able to keep up with you. They need to be smart, on your level and able to keep up. Obviously they can’t talk more than you do.”

Stiles let out a chuckle. 

“Obviously.” Stiles responded. Stiles hoped the music was too loud for Derek to hear his heartbeat. If he could, Stiles would just blame his irregular heartbeat on the alcohol he had consumed. 

“You looked a little uncomfortable dancing with the blonde guy you dumped on Scott.”

“Ah. Yeah. I wasn’t too obvious was I?”

Derek shook his head and took a swig from his drink. 

“Speaking of Scott, I should probably go save him from an awkward conversation.”

Derek didn’t say anything.

“Thank you again.” Stiles added before heading off toward the dancing bodies. 

“Thank you, Scotty. If Eric doesn’t mind though, I think I’d like to butt back in.”

“I don’t mind.” 

Scott gave Stiles a thankful look before wandering toward the table the pack had claimed. Stiles and Eric danced close to each other and Stiles put Derek and the earlier incident out of mind. He didn’t want Eric to have a bad time. He was supposed to be a good wingman. 

Stiles and Eric danced until Eric wanted to get a drink. Stiles, Danny, Eric, and Simon ordered another drink each at the bar. Danny introduced Stiles and Simon on their way over to the bar. Stiles was sure to check if Danny was having fun and enjoying Simon’s company. 

“Simon and I were about to head out.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows at the announcement. 

“You two gonna be alright?”

“Yeah. I called a cab.”

“Alright. You two be safe.”

“Will do, Stiles. You are starting to sound a lot like your dad.”

Stiles gasped in fake hurt.

“Take it back, Danny.”

“See you later, Stilinski.”

Stiles watched Danny wrap his arm around Simon’s shoulder and lead him toward the exit. Stiles took another sip of his drink before turning to Eric. Eric was looking at him expectantly. He was probably hoping Stiles would ask him if he wanted to get out of here. The problem was that Stiles didn’t know if he wanted to. Eric was a nice enough guy, but Stiles couldn’t stop thinking about someone else now that they weren’t dancing or pressing their bodies together in the heat of the moment. 

Stiles couldn’t help but think of Derek and the conversation they had earlier. Stiles did have a type. Eric wasn’t it, but that didn’t mean Stiles didn’t want to give him a chance. Stiles just couldn’t stop thinking about Derek and their conversation.

Stiles took a quick glance over his shoulder toward the pack. Derek was smiling at something Lydia had said and Stiles found himself wanting to hang out with the pack for the rest of the night. 

Eric spoke before Stiles could. 

“So do you want to get out of here too?”

Stiles’ lips twitched upward. If he said yes, it wouldn’t be fair to Eric since his mind would be somewhere else. 

“Sorry, Eric. I made some plans with some friends and I don’t want to break any promises tonight.”

“That’s cool. I understand. I like that about you, Stiles. Do you want to exchange numbers? You can call me if you change your mind.”

Stiles smiled and nodded. 

“Yeah. Here, trade phones.”

Stiles and Eric swapped phones and Stiles put his information in Eric’s contacts. When he was done, he traded the phone back for his own. 

“Thank you for tonight. I hope to see you again.”

“You too.” 

Stiles tucked his phone in his pocket before turning toward the pack. His eyes glanced across the back of their heads as they were chatting before they locked with Derek’s. Derek raised his glass toward Stiles before taking a sip and Stiles nodded his head in response. Stiles joined the pack’s table. As he slid into the space between Scott and Lydia, Lydia gave him a small side hug that Stiles reciprocated easily. 

“How are we all doing tonight?” Stiles asked cheerfully. 

“How’d it go with Eric?” Scott asked curiously as he swirled the liquid in his glass around. 

“Oh come on. You guys are werewolves. You honestly expect me not to think you were listening?”

Lydia’s lips twitched upward in a small smile. 

“Okay. Maybe some of us were listening, but-” Scott began but was interrupted by Malia.

“Why didn’t you go home with him. You two were gonna bang right?” 

Stiles nearly choked on his own saliva as Malia’s words registered. Stiles was quick to compose himself. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. 

“He was a nice guy, but not really my type.”

“What is your type? That comment you made the night we found the bomb on the bus-”

“Scotty?”

“Yeah?”

“Shutup.”

“What comment? Come on, spill. You can’t bring something up and then not elaborate.” Erica whined, her lips pulled into a pout. 

“Stiles said-”

“Alright, I’m leaving.” Stiles made the move to turn on his heel and head back to the crowd of people dancing. He could probably get lost in the swarm of bodies. An arm linked in his and the next thing he knew the entire group was heading toward the crowd. Erica even had her arm wrapped around Derek’s, dragging him with them. Stiles didn’t think Derek actually minded despite the frown he was sporting. The pack eased their way into the crowd of bodies and formed a small, closed circle of sorts where they danced together. Stiles couldn’t help that his eyes scanned the way Derek moved in his black tee and jeans. The way he seemed to just belong. 

At some point Stiles found himself and Malia dancing semi-separately from the group. Of course it didn’t mean anything other than being friends to Stiles, and he had fun with it. He liked being able to dance with someone knowing it didn't mean anything sexual or intimate was occurring or had to occur. 

Stiles danced among the pack of werewolves like he belonged. The feeling of friends and family seemed to overwhelm him. He had only known them for a couple months, but time was a subjective concept created for the benefit of creature-comforts. 

For the first time in a while, Stiles’ mind wasn’t traveling in twenty directions at once. He was perfectly content living in the moment. 

A small part of him was afraid that any progress he made tonight with the pack will be forgotten by the time they woke up tomorrow morning, and that he would be fighting for their trust and cooperation all over again. A small part. 

Three songs later Stiles was ready to call it. He was too tired to continue dancing around the club. He could go for some greasy food right about now though. 

“Hey, Scott!”

“Yeah?!”

“Let’s get out of here! I’m getting hungry.” It took Stiles a moment to remember that Scott had werewolf hearing abilities. 

“Okay!” 

Stiles wrapped his hand around the nearest pack member’s wrist and he made his way out of the crowd. Away from the crowd of dancers he turned to face the group. Stiles released the wrist of his captive at the realization of who it was. Derek was watching Stiles, and eyebrow raised. 

“Food.” Stiles said sheepishly. 

Derek’s lips twitched upward momentarily before they were joined by the rest of the pack. 

“Alright. Which werewolf is sober enough to drive?” 

“Keys.” Derek demanded. 

Stiles provided his keys without any hesitation. He was only slightly upset when Derek handed his keys to Isaac. The prospect of food silenced any forms of drunken complaints. 

The group left the building together and Stiles led Isaac to where he parked the jeep. Scott walked beside Stiles, his arm wrapped around Stiles’ shoulder in a friendly manner and the two climbed into the jeep, Stiles in the passenger seat and Scott in the back. Stiles felt odd with someone he barely knew driving his jeep, but Stiles didn’t say anything about it. 

They went on a hunt throughout Beacon hills for a place open late on a Friday night that had greasy food. They eventually found a small local business open next to a bar. Stiles applauded their business sense. 

Stiles ordered a large double cheese burger with fries and a water. He didn’t pay much attention to what the group around him ordered, although he was sure it was pretty much the same as what he ordered. 

Stiles was going down from the boost alcohol gave him, and he began to shift restlessly in his seat. He tapped his fingers against his thigh as he tried to listen to Jackson try and explain something car related to Scott. His might continued to shift to the thought of food and how thirty minutes felt like forever. 

“You okay?” Derek asked, surprising Stiles. 

“Yeah. Sorry. Alcohol isn’t good for my ADHD.” 

Derek nodded his head slowly but didn’t say anything more.

When the food finally arrived, Stiles stuffed his face. He moaned after his first bite and sagged lower in his chair. A chuckled somewhere to his left went ignored as he sank his teeth into the burger for a second bite. 

After the meal, Stiles felt a hundred percent better. While the exhaustion was also beginning to kick in, Stiles felt good. 

“I think we should call it a night.” The voice of reason, Scott McCall said. 

“Mmm. I second that.” Lydia piped in from where she had her head leaning against Jackson’s shoulder.

“Agreed.” Stiles voiced. He was thankful he hadn’t been the one to call the night. Stiles felt exhausted, and he had the urge to check the time but forced himself not to. He didn’t wasn’t to be rude to them by checking his phone.

“Scotty.”

“Yeah?”

“Mind if I crash at your place?” Stiles didn’t want to accidentally run into his father, the Sheriff of Beacon Hills, tonight. He was sure his father knew that even Stiles pushed the limits of the law a bit, but he still didn’t want to see the look on his father’s face when he stumbled home or woke up in the morning with a hangover. He had already warned his father that he would probably just be staying at Scott’s for the night.

Scott hesitated and anxiety spiked in the pit of his chest. 

“I was gonna crash at the loft. If you don’t mind spending the night there-”

“We don’t bite.” Eric piped in rather enthusiastically. 

“Uhh.” Stiles glanced at the faces around the table. 

“You don’t have to, we can give you a ride home.” Scott added quickly. 

“No, that’s fine. If it’s not inconvenient to any of you-”

“It’s not.” Scott added quickly.

“Alright then.” Stiles couldn’t help but smile. This felt good. A little awkward, but good. It felt like progress. 

While Stiles was feeling much more sober, he didn’t feel the need stop Isaac from getting in the driver’s seat of the jeep. Stiles was almost asleep in the passenger seat by the time they pulled up to the loft. Stiles groggily removed himself from his seat, nearly tripping his way out of the vehicle. 

“You good, Stiles?”

“Mmm. Just tired.” Stiles said as he stretched his arms above his head. 

“Okay. So, I was thinking. This could be a thing. Once a month, maybe twice, we do a packnight.”

“You make it sound like packnight isn’t an actual thing-” Stiles stopped in his tracks to turn to Scott. The pack moved around him and toward to the building. 

“Did you make packnight up just to get me to trust you guys?” Stiles asked, eyes pinched as he scrutinized Scott. 

“Uhh.” Scott stood still, his mouth slightly agape. 

“You know what? I don’t care. I had fun tonight. It was good.”

A grin broke across Scott’s face and he wrapped his arm around Stiles’ shoulder. They walked into the building together. 

“So I usually crash in Isaac’s apartment on his couch. You can take that if it’s more comfortable for you.”

“I don’t want to mess up your usual routine. Just put me anywhere.”

Stiles knew that if he was in Scott’s position, while he may offer up his normal couch space, he wouldn’t actually want the person to accept. Wherever the pack decided to put him, he would be grateful. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes, Scott. Where am I sleeping? I’m tired and can feel a headache coming on.”

“Oh. Okay. Well I think the only decent place left to crash is on the couch in the loft. That’s Derek’s apartment but I’m sure he won’t mind. Do you, Derek?”

“Don’t care.” Came Derek’s response from a few yards ahead of them.

Stiles felt his heart stutter in his chest. As least, that’s how his brain interpreted it. He hoped none of the werewolves picked up on it. Stiles hated this. The constant worrying that a werewolf was listening to his heart beat. He had to remind himself to ask Scott if they just randomly listened to heart beats. He would have to write it down or make a note in his phone because drunk Stiles wouldn’t remember this. 

The pack slowly split off, the couples going to their respective apartments while Stiles, Scott, Derek, and Isaac made their way toward the loft. 

Inside the loft, Derek disappeared up the spiral staircase. 

“Tonight was good. I think we all needed it.” Scott filled the silence.

“Back to work tomorrow.” Stiles muttered. 

They made small talk until Derek reemerged. His arms were full with a pillow and blanket. The sight of the pillow made Stiles think of his pillow at home. It was his favorite pillow; always helped him sleep. Derek plopped the blanket and pillow down on the couch before wandering off toward his bed. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Stiles.”

Stiles nodded in response as Scott and Isaac excused themselves with goodnights in Derek’s and Stiles’ directions. 

When they were gone, Stiles moved the pillow to one of the arms of the couch and flapped out the blanket. He felt hot and disgusting in his shirt but felt too weird in an unfamiliar environment to take it off. Instead, Stiles tucked his uncomfortable self under the blanket. 

After a moment without saying anything, and without any noise coming from the general direction that was Derek, Stiles sighed. 

“Thank you for your help tonight. Goodnight.”

Stiles didn’t expect a response, so when one came Stiles couldn’t help but let a small smile form.

“Shut up, Stiles.”


	18. The Weekend After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Got any plans for the day, Scottyboy?”
> 
> “What do you have in mind?”
> 
> “Nothing fun.”
> 
> “Great. Sign me up. I’ll follow you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! I've been sick since Monday and I've had to build up the energy to get up and post the chapter.   
> Please let me know how you feel about the chapter! We are hitting the calm before the storm once again.

 

The morning wasn’t as awkward as he thought it would be. The noise of movement in the kitchen woke him up. Stiles shifted on the couch and opened his eyes, catching his bearings and attempting to recall the previous night.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Stiles was suddenly very awake. Derek was moving around the kitchen making coffee and what looked like pancakes.

“It’s fine.” 

It wasn’t a lie. Stiles had fallen asleep relatively quickly and had probably slept more than he would have at home. Stiles excused himself to the bathroom before joining Derek in the kitchen. Stiles gratefully accepted a cup of coffee and sat at the island sipping it. He watched Derek stack pancakes high onto a plate. 

“You feeding the entire pack?”

“Isaac and Scott are on their way.” 

Not even a minute later, Scott and Isaac had joined them. Isaac was quiet and seemed to be trapped in thought while Scott was as boisterous as ever. Not too far behind them were Erica and Boyd. Malia stumbled in right before Jackson and Lydia did. 

This was the pack; excluding Peter of course. Stiles was hesitant at first, but with Scott’s guidance into their morning routine, Stiles began to loosen up. 

When breakfast was eaten, Stiles folded the blanket he used the night before and sat it nicely on one of the cushions with the used pillow on top. 

“So, I have to say something.” Isaac was pacing the living room. 

The pack was scattered around the room, suddenly very interested in what Isaac had to say. It was probably because of the tone of his voice. Stiles raised an eyebrow and waited for Isaac to continue.

“It’s about Matt.”

Stiles watched Derek cross his arms and turn into the stern, brooding werewolf Stiles had first met. 

“Years ago, when we were in high school, something happened at my house.”

“Can you be anymore cryptic?” Jackson asked as he rolled his eyes.

“The swim team was celebrating, you know- drinking. Things got out of hand and Matt ended up in the pool. No one knew he couldn’t swim.”

“Are you serious?” Stiles couldn’t help the little outburst. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He knew Matt was more of the type to keep to himself, but he hadn’t expected nearly drowning because of some drunk high school students to be the reason for it. 

“My dad basically threatened him- told him not to say anything to the police. I don’t know if any of this even matters. I just didn’t not want to say anything in case it did.”

“I don’t understand why it would matter. If Matt was looking to use Barrow for revenge, why go after Kira and werewolves? Why not go after the swim team?” Stiles reasoned. 

“What if he was building up to something bigger? What if he wanted to learn from Barrow?” Jackson argued. “I’m telling you, this guy is shady.”

“Just because you don’t like him, Jackson, doesn’t mean he is shady.”

“Of course you would say that, Stilinski. You’re all buddy-buddy with him.” 

“Knock it off, the both of you.” 

Stiles shut his mouth, killing any sort of response. He did it because he wanted to, not because Derek said to.

“So what do we do?” Isaac asked. To Stiles, Isaac looked like a skittish bunny rabbit ready to bolt from the room the minute things went south. How was this kid even a werewolf?

“You need proof.” Stiles nudged his way back into the conversation. “You can’t just go around wolfing out on people or accusing them of helping a serial bomber. You need proof.” 

“Then we find the proof. We stick to the plan. Survey him, check the history with Isaac’s story about the swim team, and look for connections to Barrow. Keep an open mind about the whole thing.”

“Peter would suggest we just kill him.” Jackson mumbled mostly to himself.

Stiles wanted to punch the asshole right in the nose. Jackson would heal and get over it. Perhaps Scott could feel the tension growing between himself and Jackson because the next thing he knew, Scott was in front of him, his hand holding onto Stiles’ shoulder keeping him in place. 

“Well, Peter isn’t here and he doesn’t make the decisions. This is the plan. Understood?” 

A round of yes’ occurred almost simultaneously. 

Stiles excused himself shortly after and Scott walked him down to his jeep. 

“Thank you for last night, Stiles.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I lost the bet.”

“The bet may have gotten the ball rolling, but you have to admit you forgot about it and just had fun. So, thank you.”

Scott wandered back inside before Stiles could say anything, but he was right. It had started off as a bet and turned into just a fun night with friends. 

When Stiles arrived home he made his way upstairs to his room where he face-planted into his bed. He didn’t do it out of exhaustion. It was more of a natural movement than anything else. 

A knock on the door pulled Stiles from his empty thoughts.

“Yeah?” Stiles sat up on the edge on his bed just as the door opened. 

“Hey, kid. You have a good night?”

“Yeah. It was a lot of fun.”

“Good. Good, I’m glad. I want you to have fun-” 

Stiles couldn’t help but interrupt with a groan. He didn’t need a lecture on drinking and staying out late, especially since his father was the Sheriff. He could feel his father’s need to say something about it.

“What? I just wanted you-”

“Dad.”

“Okay. Okay. That’s fine. I was gonna head to the store, we are out of coffee. Do you need or want anything?”

“I’m good. Thank you though.” 

His dad made a move to leave and head downstairs. A sudden thought overcame Stiles and he called out to his father. 

“Hey, dad?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“Wanna grab something to eat tonight? Maybe just chill and watch a movie?”

Stiles watched his father’s lips twitched upward in a small smile. 

“Yeah. That would be good. Pick a place.”

“Will do, Sheriff.”

“I’m off duty.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Stiles.”

“Noah.”

“I’m leaving.” 

Stiles watched his father leave. Both of them were left with a smile pulling at their lips. 

Stiles took an hour long nap and awoke to the sound of his phone ringing. 

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

It was Scott.

“What’s up?”

“Kira called me. She said she can meet up tomorrow and talk about that night.” 

Stiles nodded before realizing he should probably answer verbally.

“Alright. Sounds like a plan.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yep.” Stiles popped the word before hanging up and burying his head back into his pillow. There was no way he was going back to sleep. That wasn’t going to happen. However, he could lay in his bed and just exist for a while. 

The front door opening lured Stiles from his bed and his room. His father was carrying bags of groceries in. 

“Wanna give me a hand?” 

“I refuse. I only have two and I love them both equally.”

“Stiles.” His father let out a tired breath.

“I’ll help you with the groceries though.”

“My son, such a help around the house.”

“I did dishes.”

“When?”

“Two days ago?”

“You can do them tonight.”

“Sure, since we are eating out and all, I’ll join the kitchen staff and pay them for my services.”

“Smart ass. Tomorrow then.” 

Stiles went to the car and helped his father bring the bags in. Once everything was sorted and put away, Stiles and his father sat down on the couch to watch some television. Stiles nibbled on a snack, occasionally throwing pieces his father’s way. 

“You should stop eating, you’ll get full before we even go eat.”

Stiles brought his snack to the kitchen and put it away. When he went back into the living room his father was on the phone. Stiles sat himself on the couch and waited patiently as he dad spoke. Stiles knew it was the station based on the tone of his father’s voice. He was in Sheriff mode. His father sighed and rubbed his eyes when he hung up. 

“I have to go in for a bit. I’ll be back in time for dinner.”

“Alright. Handle whatever it is.” Stiles replied with a shrug of his shoulder.

“Okay.” 

The older Stilinski got up from the couch and headed toward the front door. He gave Stiles a pat on the shoulder as he passed his son. 

Stiles left the tv on downstairs for some background noise as he went upstairs to his room. Stiles placed his pillows in the corner of his bed and leaned up against them, his bestiary in his lap and a pencil and notebook resting on one of his knees. He had spent an hour searching the bestiary for the word Kitsune earlier this week. He was changing tactics now and looking for fox, or the latin word, vulpes. Ten minutes later and halfway through the book, he found the words “ spiritus vulpes,” fox spirit, scrolled across the top of a page. The image drawn on the following page was an image of a savage beast, highlighted in such a way that Stiles could imagine the beast glowing. 

His father was gone for two and half hours but Stiles barely noticed. He was caught up in the bestiary. It was a puzzle for him to solve and it gave him something to do. 

When his father did finally get home Stiles ushered him out of the door and toward the jeep. He tossed his father the jeep keys and got into the passenger seat. From inside the vehicle he watched his father run his fingers along the form of the key as he made his way toward the driver’s side. 

The ride over to the restaurant was quiet. Stiles couldn’t speak for his father, but he was thinking about his mother. Stiles did his best to try and recall what she looked like in as much detail as he could. He remembered her eyes so vividly; the way she looked at him and accused him of trying to kill her. He didn’t hold it against her. It certainly wasn’t his favorite memory of her, but it was one of the strongest. 

They pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant and exited the vehicle. The whole aura and feeling of the night changed as they exited the jeep and walked into the family owned building. Stiles put everything supernatural related out of his mind. Tonight wasn’t about the pack or Kitsunes, it was about spending time with his dad.

Stiles woke up Sunday morning to Scott body slamming him. Stiles flailed awake, his limbs connecting with the body of his attacker. He heard a yelp other than his own and halted in his frantic movements. 

“Scott? Are you fucking kidding me?” 

Scott was sitting on the floor rubbing his side. 

Rather than say anything else, Stiles flopped back down on his bed, faced away from Scott, and closed his eyes.

“Stiles, come on. You have to get up.”

“No. How did you even get in here?” Stiles mumbled into his pillow. 

“Your dad let me in. Kira wanted to meet up today, remember?” Scott kneed the side of Stiles’ bed making it shift slightly. 

Stiles groaned, maybe a little more exaggerated than necessary but he wanted Scott to understand his distaste for being woken. He pushed himself onto his forearms and sighed in defeat. 

“He just let you in and let you abuse his son? What time is it?”

“Nine-thirty. He had an errand to run.”

“Who does errands on a Sunday?” Stiles mumbled to himself more out of tired irritation than anything. Stiles rolled himself over, kicking Scott in the shins as he did so, and lifted himself off the bed. 

“Give me like ten minutes.”

“You have five.”

“Alright.”

Stiles took his time. He ignored Scott’s anxious behavior and his attempts to get Stiles to go faster. 

“Come on, Stiles.”

“You woke me up.”

“We have things to do!”

Stiles popped an Adderall before grabbing his keys and wallet. Sometimes having an extreme extrovert as a friend was a struggle.

Scott clapped Stiles on the shoulder before leading the way out the front door. Scott’s bike was parked on the curb. Stiles figured it was safe to assume they were driving separately when Scott walked over to his bike and pulled on his helmet. Stiles positioned himself behind Roscoe’s wheel and followed a safe distance behind Scott. 

They arrived at Kira’s a little while later. She was sitting outside her front door playing with her hands. She looked up from where she sat when she noticed their presence pulling up to the front of her house. A small smile grew on her face and she made her way over the Scott. Scott was still sitting on his bike, but his helmet was removed and his feet were on the ground keeping the balance in place. Stiles remained sitting in his jeep, the engine running. He didn’t know what Scott and Kira’s plan was but he didn’t want to walk up and interrupt anything. 

Scott and Kira seemed to agree on something; Stiles could tell the way Kira smiled and nodded her head. Stiles watched Kira step away from Scott and move toward the jeep. She tapped on the window of the passenger side and Stiles leaned across the vehicle to open the passenger door. 

“Need a ride?” He asked casually.

“Yeah. Thanks.” Kira tucked a couple strands of hair behind her ear before getting into the jeep. 

“Are we following Scott?”

“Yeah. He said he knew a good spot.” 

“Sounds good.”

The beginning of the ride was silent but Stiles could tell Kira wanted to say something by the way she was fidgeting in her seat. Stiles contemplated breaking the silence but he didn’t want to risk making her uncomfortable if she wasn’t ready to talk. She spoke up a couple minutes later.

“So, you’re human?” 

What kind of question was that? Stiles corrected himself. It would be an odd question if he didn’t know about the supernatural world. 

“Yep.” Stiles popped the word slowly. He wasn’t exactly sure where this was going.

“How did you get dragged into this?”

“I was literally dragged into this. I made some friends who happened to be werewolves and I’ve been involved since.”

“How long has it been?”

“A couple months.” 

Kira nodded slowly before responding. 

“My mother told me about it a year ago. She’s been teaching me to control it.”

Stiles didn’t know why Kira decided to share, but Stiles let her continue talking anyway.

“I know you guys saving me was totally coincidental but thank you again. I don’t know what I would have done. I mean, I’m glad it didn’t come to me having to do what I would have done if someone hadn’t come to help. Anyway, thanks.” 

“No problem.” 

“So, are you part of the pack or something?” 

“Or something.” Stiles replied. He didn’t actually know what he was. He was officially invited to packnights and he had already spent a night at the loft and Derek- 

Scott turned right onto a dirt road leading toward the cliff that overlooked Beacon Hills and Stiles directed his mind to keeping the jeep from jostling back and forth excessively. 

“Did Scott say anything about me?” 

The question came out of nowhere and Stiles was unsure as what to say. He knew Scott was interested, but he didn’t know if he was supposed to tell Kira that. He took a quick glance in her direction. She was playing with her hands again, her head facing Scott’s back as he moved carefully along the road. 

“It’s totally fine if he didn’t say anything, I was just- I don’t know. Don’t worry about it.”

“No, he was talked about you. He couldn’t wait to see you again.” 

Had he said too much? Stiles didn’t care as much after seeing the small smile that lit her face and the confidence that seemed to spark in her eyes. 

“Cool.” 

Stiles suppressed his own smile. 

The pulled up to the clearing, Scott was already off his bike and removing his helmet. Stiles parked the jeep and Kira and himself stepped out of the vehicle. 

“Noone comes up here. It’s just us so we can talk.” Scott swept his arms in front of his body, presenting the clearing. 

Stiles watched Kira scan the area before she nodded her approval. Her right hand was grasping the nook of her left arm in a half-nervous, half-defensive posture. 

“I don’t know how to start.” Kira glanced between Scott and Stiles. 

Scott looked over at Stiles and raised an eyebrow. Stiles sighed and pulled himself up onto the hood of his jeep. 

“How about with your mother, she is a Kitsune as well, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So she can do the thing with electricity that you do?”

“No, she is a Celestial Kitsune. I am a Thunder Kitsune.”

“What did you do that night?” Scott piped in. He had only seen a moment of it and only knew what Stiles had told him. 

“I can channel electricity. It’s sort of my thing.”

“That is a very cool thing.”

Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Had you met or seen Barrow before that night?” Stiles asked.

“No. I went outside for a moment and there was a sharp pain on my head and then I blacked out. I woke up and that man was standing above me. I could feel the electricity. I passed out again at some point and then when I woke up again you guys were there.”

“Did he say anything to you?”  
“He-he wanted proof.”

“For who?”

“He said it was for the people who never believed him.”

“Did he say who they were exactly?”

“No.”

“Okay. Did he say anything else? Anything about-” Scott cut himself off and looked up at Stiles. 

Scott was going to mention him. He was going to ask if Barrow had spoken about Stiles. Stiles sighed and ran his hand through his hair. Kira looked utterly confused, both arms now crossed over her chest.

“Did he say anything about me?” Stiles asked reluctantly.

“No. Why would he? You said-”

“A banshee had a dream about me. They predict death.” Stiles interrupted.

“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

“I’m not dead yet so it’s a good sign. She may have been wrong or misinterpreted the whole thing. So, did he say anything else?”

“He talked about a movie. Village of the Damned or something like that.”

“The remake of the black and white classic?” Stiles asked, an eyebrow raised. 

“Does that even matter?” Scott asked 

“It mattered to Barrow.” Kira piped in. “He liked the classic one. He mentioned how their eyes glow and they do terrible things. He said something about a slogan.”

“Beware the stare that will paralyze the will of the world.” Stiles muttered as he recalled it.

“Yeah. He was obsessed with freeing the world from being paralyzed.” 

“Well, this does nothing to help us now that Barrow is dead.” Stiles hopped off the hood of his jeep and walked over to the cliff’s edge. He remained a safe distance away from the actual edge but gave Scott and Kira some space to talk amongst themselves. He could hear Scott thanking her for telling them what she knew. They moved away from the topic of Barrow and onto more personal subjects and Stiles lost interest. He closed his eyes and felt the breeze brush against his face. Even with the wind drowning out most of the noise, a voice could still reach his ears. It was a man’s, so he assumed Scott was just talking in his loud, usual way. 

Eventually Stiles opened his eyes again and turned back toward Scott and Kira. Scott was proudly showing her his bike. It was his second bike, an upgraded version of the one he had apparently bought and fixed while he was in highschool. 

“Do you know a kid named Matt Daehler?” Stiles asked.

Kira looked thoughtful for a moment before shaking her head.

“No. I don’t think so. I’m bad with names though.”

“If I showed you a picture-”

“Yeah- yeah, sure.”

Stiles pulled out his phone and did a quick search through his photos. He was pretty sure he had a photo of them when they were in high school or something. He found the photograph of them on their high school lacrosse team. Matt had quit at the end of the season. Stiles now knew why, and he felt guilty for pushing Matt so hard to rejoin the team that year. Stiles turned his phone toward Kira, both of them stepping closer to the other. Kira took the phone from Stiles and seemed to study the photograph. She handed it back a few moments later, shaking her head. 

“No- I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“Alright, thank you.” 

“Sorry.” Kira handed Stiles back his phone.

“It’s fine. It might be a good thing.” Stiles slid his phone back into his pocket and rubbed his hands together. “Should we get going?”

“Yeah. Maybe we can grab a bite to eat or something?” Scott asked casually. 

Stiles knew what Scott was doing. Scott wanted to spend more time with Kira. Stiles, however, just wanted to go home and figure things out. He had to talk to Matt. He didn’t want to take Scott’s opportunity to spend time with Kira away but he didn’t want to third wheel anything either. 

“I actually can’t. My mother and I have…  plans. Raincheck? I want to go out to eat with you- I mean, I really do have something I need to do.”

“Okay. Sounds good. Let’s get going.” 

Kira and Stiles got into the jeep and Scott got onto his bike. Scott followed behind Stiles’ jeep on the way back to Kira’s. They pulled up for Kira’s house fifteen minutes later and Stiles parked the jeep. Kira thanked him and got out of the vehicle. Scott was off his bike and waiting for Kira on the curb. Stiles watched Scott and Kira walk toward her front door. Scott said something that made Kira smile. She gave him a small wave before going into her house. Scott had a ridiculous smile on his face as he walked back toward the jeep. 

“Got any plans for the day, Scottyboy?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Nothing fun.”

“Great. Sign me up. I’ll follow you.”

Scott followed on his bike all the way to Stiles’ house. 

They walked to the front door together and into the living room. The older Stilinski was sitting on the couch, papers spread across the couch and coffee table. 

“So, I hear you two officially met this morning, daddio.” Stiles glanced between Scott and his father. 

The older Stilinski placed what he was working on down on the coffee table and stood. 

“We did.”

“Thank you for letting me in this morning, sir. I know it was early.” 

“If it get’s Stiles out of the house from time to time, I’m open to whatever.” 

“Hey! I am standing right here.”

“We know.” Scott said.

“Well, I won’t keep you kids. You look like you have something on your mind, Stiles.”

“It’s nothing important, but I was going to show Scotty a cheat for Harris’ class.”

“I don’t want to know.” The Sheriff threw his hands up and made his way toward the kitchen. 

Stiles nodded his head toward the stairs before making his way in that direction, Scott following a few feet behind him.  

Stiles pulled his bestiary out from underneath his pillow and flipped it open to the page he had last translated. 

“Spiritus vulpes.” Stiles said as he handed the open book to Scott. 

“What?” Scott took the book and scanned the pages with curious eyes. 

Stiles waited a few moments before answering.

“Fox spirit. Sycophantam.”

“What?” Scott asked a little more flabbergasted.

“Trickster.”


	19. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, Scott. Pick up the phone.”
> 
> “Hello?”
> 
> “You aren’t Scotty.” It was Derek. Why was Derek answering Scott’s phone?
> 
> “He left his phone here.”
> 
> “He never leaves his phone anywhere.”
> 
> Silence answered Stiles.
> 
> Stiles waited a few seconds for a response and when he didn’t get one he sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Alright. That’s fine. I need someone to just listen. Can you listen?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! I have two things to talk about.   
> 1\. I'm sorry for not posting a chapter last week! So much was going on and I have finals in a couple weeks. I'm going to do a lot of writing this week so I can have chapters ready.  
> 2\. I'm sorry about the way this fic started. It was disorganized with the POV switching and I didn't keep up with it. It took me some times to figure out how I wanted to do this fic. The rest of this fic will be in Stiles POV. 
> 
> Please comment! Your comments make me smile :D   
> Enjoy this chapter! I can't wait to post the next one.

Pulling into the student parking lot of the community college campus, Stiles wanted to be anywhere but here. He was supposed to try and talk to Matt today. Despite the fact that it was his idea, Stiles was nervous about the whole thing. What if he said something that set Matt off? Not that he thought Matt was responsible, but even Stiles had his doubts. 

Scott met him in the courtyard and together they walked in the general direction of Stiles’ class. Stiles didn’t understand why Scott even showed up this early when his first class wasn’t until noon. His nerves, however, were too racked to even think about asking about it. He went through his day like this. He didn’t ask questions in class, he didn’t make faces every time someone asked a ridiculous question. 

Stiles was playing different scenarios in his head. He didn’t know how Matt would react. He imagined phrasing what he wanted to say in different ways, words in different orders, using different languages. Eventually Stiles gave up. Even if he planned it to the word, he didn’t know what Matt would say or do. Stiles couldn’t rely on the hope that Matt would be at practice, but he knew where he could find him after practice. 

As Stiles thought, Matt wasn’t taking pictures of the lacrosse team today. Stiles did his best to focus on the team exercises and Coach Finstock’s instructions, but it wasn’t good enough.

“Stilinski! Get your ass off the field and go run some laps! Even I know you can’t screw that up.”

Stiles sighed and rubbed his face in frustration. His mind was going a million different directions at the same time. He had to speak to Matt. 

“Hey, Scotty. C’mere.” 

Scott was only a few feet away when Stiles called out to him.

“What’s up?” Scott asked, concern laced in his tone.

“This is going to drive me crazy, I need to go speak to Matt.”

“We’ll speak to him after practice.”

“I can’t wait, Scott. I’m gonna go see him now.”

“You’re gonna just leave practice?”

“Yeah. Coach wants me to run laps. I’m better off spending my time trying to figure other things out.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No. It’s fine. The goal isn’t to piss Coach off any more.”

“You need backup.”

“I’m just gonna talk to him. I’m not gonna accuse him of anything. I’ll meet you guys at Derek’s loft afterward. I’ll tell you everything that happens.”

Scott looked hesitant. Stiles bit his bottom lip and tapped his fingers against his leg. 

“Let me do this, Scott.”

“Fine. Be careful.”

“Will do. I’ll text you if there is an emergency.”

“Okay. We should have a safe word in case. You know, so I know it’s you.”

Why Scott wanted a safe word was beyond Stiles. Why wouldn’t it be him texting Scott? Then Stiles remembered the night the pack had texted his father. Maybe a safe word wasn’t so bad. 

“Umm, how about Roscoe.”

“Roscoe? Your car?” Scott looked displeased with the choice but nodded anyway. 

“Okay. Great. I’ll see you later.”

Stiles ran off the field with his bag and equipment. It only took a moment for Finstock to realize Stiles wasn’t about to go run laps. Coach began shouting obscenities at Stiles’ back. It lasted for a few seconds before he eventually gave up. 

“Sorry, Coach!” Stiles shouted as he jogged toward his jeep. He dropped his equipment into the back of the jeep before getting into the driver’s seat. He drove his way over to the parking lot closest to the photography classroom. Stiles knew they had a darkroom and a million other amazing photography tools and equipment. If he was lucky, Stiles would find Matt there. 

Stiles nearly slammed the jeep into park when he pulled up to the right building. He exited the jeep and began heading toward the building. Stiles rubbed the palm of his left hand with his right thumb in an attempt to calm his nerves. He may have sped toward the door, but as he neared it Stiles slowed his pace. What was he even going to say?

Stiles took hold of the door and gave it a test pull. The old college door creaked and Stiles heaved the door open even further. The room was partially lit, a few people randomly scattered around the room. They looked up in his direction when he walked in, their eyes following him made him feel self conscious, but they didn’t say anything to him. It wasn’t a class; maybe a club or after-club type thing. Stiles didn’t really care for the people here, he wanted to find Matt and just talk. 

“Darkroom?” Stiles asked hesitantly. 

A kid nodded toward the the right side of the room and Stiles followed his line of sight to the door between a counter and cabinet. 

“Thanks.” Stiles muttered. 

Stiles approached the door and rapped his fingers against the door. There was no response.

“No one is in there.” Someone said as if it were a fact Stiles should know. 

“Very helpful.” Stiles muttered. 

Stiles pulled the door open and walked in. His eyes took a few moments to adjust to the lighting. It looked like someone had just completed a series of photos. A backpack sat in the corner and a folder sat open on a nearby table. Photographs hung on a string, completely formed and dry. Stiles wandered the room toward the folder. He was snooping. He probably shouldn't have, but his instincts took over. Stiles tentatively picked up a photograph from the stack on top of the folder. 

It was of a face he didn’t recognize, a girl. Probably another student at the college. Stiles moved on from that photo and picked up another. And another. He moved from one photo to the next, sometimes admiring the cinematic value and other times not bothering to look too much into it. They were definitely Matt’s style. 

Stiles eventually stopped on a photo. He was in it and so was Scott. It was a photograph of them at the game. The night Scott and Stiles had found the bomb on the bus. It was of Stiles and Scott talking outside the bus, probably just after Stiles had called his father. 

Stiles continued to shuffle through the photographs at a faster pace. He stopped when he found another one. This time, it was of Kira. She was at the lacrosse game, standing off to the side. 

Kira had been at the lacrosse game. 

Why the hell was she there? 

Stiles finished off the stack of photos and tried to put them back the way he found them. 

Stiles moved from the folder on the main table to wander the room in search of something else. He didn’t know what, but he was looking for it. 

“What are you doing in here?” 

Stiles looked up from where he was squinting at a photo to see Matt in the doorway. 

“Looking for you.”

“Why?”

“Why does anyone do anything?” Stiles asked with a shrug.

“Stiles, what do you want?”

“I was worried about you.”

“Why?” Matt stepped into the room, closing the door behind them. 

Stiles’ eyes had to readjust once again to the light change. 

“Haven’t seen you around as much.” 

“Haven’t been around.”

Stiles felt a weird tension in the air. Matt seemed overly cautious around him. Stiles caught Matt’s side glances at the folder of photographs on the table. 

“You have some really interesting photographs.” Stiles nodded toward the stack and the room in general. “You always seem to know when to take the right photo.” 

Stiles was antagonizing Matt. He knew that. Stiles was referring to the photos taken at the game the night they found the bomb. If Matt was involved, which Stiles was starting to believe, then Matt would immediately think of those photos. Stiles wanted to see how far they would take it before someone actually admitted something. 

“It’s part of being a good photographer.”

“What’s going on with you, Matt? Is something going on? I’m your friend, you know. You can talk to me.” 

“What do you want, Stiles?”

“Why do you think I want something?”

“You’re stalking me, looking at my photos, saying things that don’t make sense. What do you want?”

“I want to make sure you are okay.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Stiles shrugged. He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t let Matt know he knew about the night involving the pool. Matt didn’t tell him directly so he had no business bringing it up. He also didn’t want to be the first one to bring up Barrow or anything related. 

“Thanks for stopping by but I think you should go. Don’t you have lacrosse practice or something?” 

Stiles tapped his fingers against a nearby counter before he nodded and slip his hands into his pockets. 

“I’ll see you around, Matt.” 

“You will.” 

With one last look back over his shoulder at Matt, Stiles left the room. He exited the building, ignoring the watchful eyes of other students, and headed toward his jeep. 

Stiles’ thoughts were so jumbled. He had to get this out. He needed to see it in front of him.

Stiles pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed his father. 

“Hey, dad?”

“What’s up, kid? Why are you calling me at work?” 

“Does your station have an extra evidence board?

“I’m sure I could find one in the back. Why?”

“I’m working on a project.”

“Do I get to know the project?”

“Dad, it’s really not that interesting.”

“I do take an interest in your life, Stiles. I’m here for you kid.”

“I know, dad. It’s not a big deal.”

“Alright. Give me a moment and I’ll go check.”

“Okay.”

Stiles sat in the driver’s seat of his jeep as he waited for his father to get back to his phone. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and waited. While he sat, Stiles felt his eyes wander toward the door of the photography classroom. The door opened and Stiles sunk lower in his seat. He watched Matt exit the room, a camera bag hanging across his body. He didn’t look in Stiles’ direction, his eyes were trained on the ground. Stiles watched as Matt crossed the parking lot and got into his car. He began pulling out just as Stiles’ father got back to the phone.

“You still there, kid?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“We have a spare one in the back. You want me to bring it home, tonight?”

“Is it okay if I just come over and pick it up?”

“Right now?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure. I’ll see you soon then. Pick up some food on your way.”

“I’m not gonna indulge in your junk food escapades.”

“Fine. I’ll get Parish to do it.”

“I’ll bring you food, don’t be so rash.”

“See you, Stiles.”

Stiles hung up and turned the key. The engine purred to life and Stiles shifted gears. He reversed out of the parking space and drove in the direction of the Sheriff’s station. Stiles was beginning to piece things together in his brain. He needed a visual of all the information he was processing. 

Stiles almost forgot to grab food on his way over to the Sheriff’s station. He ended up stopping in a drive-thru and ordering two salads and a burger. 

He pulled up to the station and greeted the officers on his way in. 

“Deputy Graeme!” Stiles said cheerfully.

“Stiles! How are you? I haven’t heard from you in a while. Doing good in school?”

“Yes, ma’am. Classes are going well. Keeping busy.”

“That’s good. Staying out of trouble I hope?”

“You know me.”

“I worry about you, Stiles. You have habits.”

“All my habits are good habits. Do you know where my dad is?”

“Yeah, his office. He has a couple boxes for you.”

“Thank you, Graeme.”

“Stay out of trouble!”

Stiles turned toward his father’s office and knocked on the door. 

“Come in!”

“Hey, dad.”

“Hey, kid. The main piece is in the back, these boxes are gonna need a bit of a set up. Are you gonna need some help?”

“Nah, I can get Scott to give me a hand.”

“Alright. I’ll help you get it into the jeep.”

“Thanks.” 

Stiles placed the bag of food, the salad and burger for his father and the other chicken salad for Parish. The two of them had been working closely together on the Barrow case and Stiles had watched as his father took the young Deputy under his wing. 

“I grabbed something for Parish while I was there. Hope he likes chicken salad.”

“I’m sure he will just be grateful you brought him anything.”

Stiles chuckled and followed his father out of the Sheriff office.

They secured the big piece on the roof and tucked the other boxes in the back. It took about twenty-five minutes. Stiles thanked his father and went on his way. 

Stiles didn’t want to have to call someone to help him with the evidence board. He just needed to get it setup so he could get his thoughts out. 

It took him an hour to set the thing up. Stiles carried it into his room, a feat that he only struggled with slightly. He got the entire thing set up and then sat on his bed staring through the board. Before setting it up, Stiles had all these thoughts he wanted to get out. Now, staring at it, he didn’t know what he wanted to put up. Maybe if he just printed a bunch of photos something would spark. 

Stiles hooked up his printer and laptop on his desk and began printing. He printed the photo of Scott, Isaac, and Jackson at lacrosse with the glowing eyes, the photo of his high school lacrosse team with Matt circled with a red permanent marker, and a picture of Barrow. He taped the pictures to the board and began connecting things with a red or black washable marker. Red for unknown connection, black for things he knew for sure. The photo of Matt sat at the center and lines branched off like a web. 

He put Kira’s name on the board, off to the side, and wrote “Kitsune or Nogitsune” underneath. After finding the dark fox spirit in his bestiary and considering Kira’s involvement, Stiles was no longer one-hundred-percent sure that Kira was a good guy. She was at the game the night Scott and Stiles found the bomb. Maybe Kira was involved. 

Stiles moved on from thoughts of Kira being involved in the Barrow and Matt situation. He needed to focus on Matt. How was Matt involved? Stiles, in the beginning, wanted nothing more than for Matt to be innocent in it all. He wanted Matt to just be going through things of his own. Stiles was almost completely sure now that Matt was involved. It wasn’t coincidence, it couldn’t be. Matt was there. The pictures. Always being at the right place at the right time. 

Stiles couldn’t help but think it was related to the night with the pool, when members of the swim team nearly drowned him. A thought struck Stiles and Stiles located his high school yearbook. His father had insisted he buy the yearbook for memories sake. Stiles had protested back in high school but now he was grateful for his father’s unintentional assistance. 

The swim team had an entire two pages dedicated to them. He looked at the familiar faces and names of some of the team members. They were on the lacrosse team. Stiles’ lacrosse team. Stiles tore out the image of the swim team from his yearbook and put it up on the board. That would explain the bomb on the lacrosse bus. He wasn’t targeting the werewolves; well, Barrow may have thought that was the target but Matt was after the high school swim team members. He wanted revenge. 

None of this explained how Matt met Barrow though. It was one of the mysteries he hadn’t figured out yet. Stiles ran his hand through his hair and tapped his fingers against his leg in agitation. His mind was spinning in so many directions. Stiles popped an adderall and drank some water to help it go down. 

Matt had taken the photo of Kira at the game, Stiles didn’t know why she was even there but that didn’t matter right now, and Barrow had kidnapped her. Stiles knew it had something to do with what she was. Was she a Kitsune like she said, or was she lying and really a Nogitsune? What would Matt want with either of those things? 

According to his bestiary, the Sycophantam (trickster) was the equivalent of the Japanese Kitsune. The fox spirit with no moral code of right and wrong. Stiles thought it may be the perfect tool for exacting one’s revenge. Stiles wondered if becoming a Kitsune could be like becoming a werewolf. Did Matt want to become the Kitsune? Stiles drew a red line from Matt to the word “Kitsune” and drew a question mark above the line. It was one of his possible theories. 

Stiles wrote the words “the pack” and circled it a few times before writing his own name and connecting the two with a red line. What did he have to do with this? Did he actually have anything to do with this? Did it matter anymore? He was kind of in this thing whether he wanted to be or not. 

The only real connection he could draw between the pack and Matt was Isaac. Maybe Isaac was one of Matt’s main targets. But Stiles now knew and Matt knew that Stiles knew. So was Stiles now a target? Maybe this is where he fit in. Maybe he was supposed to confront Matt again and have a panic attack and die.

Stiles shook his head. These thoughts were just coming from exhaustion. He was freaking himself out. Stiles rubbed his face and dropped onto his bed. He stared at the evidence board across from him. There was so much information there. Stiles felt like he should know what was going on just based on the information there. He had everything he needed but he couldn’t figure it out. It was as if there were a part of his brain keeping him from seeing it. 

He should call Scott. It didn’t matter that he didn’t have the full story figured out. He had something. Maybe if he talked someone through it he would be able to figure it out.

Stiles dialed Scott’s number and waiting for the phone to ring. It rang, and rang, and rang. Stiles was tapping his foot, moving his leg up and down, as he waited for Scott to answer. 

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, Scott. Pick up the phone.” 

“Hello?”

“You aren’t Scotty.” It was Derek. Why was Derek answering Scott’s phone?

“He left his phone here.”

“He never leaves his phone anywhere.” 

Silence answered Stiles. 

Stiles waited a few seconds for a response and when he didn’t get one he sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Alright. That’s fine. I need someone to just listen. Can you listen?”

“Sure.” The response was hesitant, but it was a response nonetheless. 

“Okay, good. I spoke to Matt today.”

“You did what?” Derek’s voice rose. Stiles could tell he wasn’t happy with Stiles’ admission.

“I spoke to Matt. You are supposed to be listening.”

“I am listening. I just can’t believe you would do something so stupid.”

“It got my mind working. It wasn’t stupid. Will you just listen? If you can’t shut up for a few moments and left me talk I am hanging up and calling Lydia.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, you’ll listen?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. So Matt. I saw some of his photos today. He had a picture of Kira at the game the night Scott and I found the bomb. He also has a picture of Scott and I outside the bus right after we called the police. He is everywhere, always taking photos. I think he might actually be involved. Look-” Stiles launched into an explanation of the connections he made. He got off his bed and stood in front of his evidence board. 

At moments he would forget Derek wasn’t there in person and Derek would have to stop him and ask him to explain it again without saying “look here” or something along those lines. Other than that, Derek kept up with Stiles and his process relatively well.

Stiles loved having someone to bounce ideas off of and explain things to. Not only did it help him think, it made him feel useful. 

“You think Matt is going after Isaac?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Isaac knows about the night at the pool. If he is really going after those involved Matt may see Isaac as guilty by association. Everyone involved that night is in danger. I think he needs to be very careful. We don’t know what Matt is doing. We need to speak to Kira again.”

“Didn’t you and Scott already clear her?”

“Yes, but I don’t know if she told us everything we needed to know. Like, she didn’t tell us she was there at the game that night.”

“I’ll let Scott know he needs to talk to her again.”

“Someone needs to go with him. The boy is smitten.”

Derek groaned and Stiles couldn’t hold back a chuckle.

“This isn’t funny, Stiles. This is-”

“Completely normal for a guy Scott’s age. Who knows, I could be completely wrong about everything.”

“You could be.”

“If you feel that way why did you just let me talk your ear off with all this stuff for an hour?” Stiles couldn’t imagine Derek just liked to listen to Stiles talk. No one did. He was told he talked too much, much too quickly. Besides, he hardly knew Derek. Sure they flirted a bit the night at the club, but they hadn’t spoken since the morning after.

“You did good.”

“You- I- what?”

“We’ll confront him tonight. Scott will be back in an hour. You can get down here and help figure out a plan.”

“Are you going to kill him, Derek? He’s human.”

“Humans kill humans everyday.”

“What if I’m wrong? I might just be reading too far into things.” Derek didn’t actually say he was going to kill Matt. He didn’t think that was the kind of Alpha Derek was. He could see Peter killing a human for no reason, although Stiles was pretty sure he only thought that way because Peter kind of scared him. 

“You have instincts, Stiles. I’m starting to think you would make a better werewolf than Scott. We aren’t going to kill him. We are just going for a talk. Do you know where he lives?”

“Yeah. I have an address. It’s old though. He may not even live there anymore.”

“Come to the loft. Send me the address. We will think of something.”

“Okay.”

Derek hung up and Stiles sat himself on his bed. Derek had sat and listened to him talk for a little over an hour. He then went on to say that Stiles would make a good werewolf. Maybe he would, but Stiles didn’t think he even wanted the opportunity to become one. He hadn’t even thought about it. He was good at being human. He liked being human. Stiles knew Derek wasn’t offering to bite him and turn him, but it was definitely a thought that had manifested itself visually in his mind. 

Stiles texted the address to Scott’s phone. There was no response; Stiles wasn’t expecting one. Stiles stood and stretched. He was still in his clothes from practice. It would probably be a good idea to change before he went anywhere. Stiles slipped out of his clothes and into a pair of jeans, a white t-shirt, and a red and black flannel. He would take a shower when he got home. He was too anxious to waste anymore time. He grabbed his wallet and keys and jogged down stairs. He locked the front door behind him and got into his jeep.


	20. Matt Daehler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Stiles.” His name was drawn out in a sing-song manner.
> 
> Stiles clutched at his shirt right above his heart as he struggled to breathe. This was it. This was Lydia’s dream. Stiles was going to die in the forest.
> 
> “Stiles. Whoa there, having trouble breathing?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry I'm posting it late in the day but at least it's not a week late! Let me know what you think :)

Stiles couldn’t sit still and driving seemed to be one of the hardest things to do in that moment. He tapped his fingers restlessly, alternating between tapping the steering wheel and his leg. Stiles was heading to the loft to figure out the game plan with the pack. If Matt was targeting Isaac, there was a good chance that he would eventually target the rest of the pack. That’s how bad guys worked, right? They went after the good guy’s loved ones. 

It was darker than he had expected it to be for six in the afternoon. He was pretty sure the sun wasn’t supposed to set for another two hours. Stiles glanced up at the trees alongside the road he passed. They moved slowly to the will of the wind, casting moving shadows on the road with the aid of the moonlight. 

Stiles pulled his focus back to the road. It was dark and quiet, almost something from a horror film. Something felt odd. A feeling bubbled in his gut and made its way to his chest. He felt his heart quicken and his chest constrict. Something wasn’t right.  

The car came out of nowhere. He had been alone on the road one moment and in the next he was jerking the wheel away from an incoming car. Stiles had caught sight of the car around the turn, but rather than turn around the corner like they should have, they drove straight for Stiles and his jeep. The other car slammed into the left side of the jeep’s front bumper, sending the jeep spiralling off road. Stiles was jolted toward the steering wheel; his head slammed against it and he blacked out. 

When he woke his entire body ached. It felt like it was being weighed down by an anchor. Stiles groaned but made no attempt to move. He could feel how unready he was for that. Sitting in his own jeep, his surroundings felt foreign and unwelcoming. Nothing felt right. There were unfamiliar noises, smells, and visual stressors. It took him a moment to realize he was hearing something other than the noise his jeep was making. Someone was saying something to him but he couldn’t understand the words. They sounded so far away. 

His eyes shut involuntarily and he fought to open them again. His vision was blurry and his chest heavy. He struggled to breathe, his body falling further into shock. Stiles gathered what strength he could, took a deep breath and pushed himself off the steering wheel. Stiles let out a pathetic roar of pain as he shifted his body. The pressure on his chest was slightly relieved, however, the immense pain that followed the removal of the pressure made Stiles regret moving. He didn’t have much of a choice though. 

There was broken glass scattered across the dashboard and coating his clothes in a dull shine. Tree branches protruded through where the windshield used to be. One of the tree branches, a rather large one, had Stiles’ leg pinned against the seat.

Stiles let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, although it came out more like a moan. 

The jeep was smoking, he could smell the fumes and feel it burning the inside of his nostrils. He needed to get out of here.

Stiles tried to open the door but it refused to budge. He had to jimmy the door, but eventually it opened with a pop. Stiles pushed the door away from him with the weight of his own body and flopped onto the ground painfully. 

Stiles laid on the hard, leaf covered ground, resting for a moment before he dragged his body away from the wreckage. Stiles was pretty sure something somewhere on him was broken. He pulled himself a few yards away before turning to face his jeep. 

The sight of his jeep brought tears to his eyes. If he had the strength to be angry, he would be yelling and spewing curse words at the trees. Stiles thought of his mother. Her jeep was now totalled. He was supposed to take care of it. How had this happened? 

Things began to click into place. Someone had hit his car. Stiles’ eyes flickered across the dark expanse of the night. He was a few yards down hill from the road. The lack of headlights on the road was a frightening thing. 

If someone had hit him, wouldn’t they try to find and help him? Why wouldn’t they-

Stiles’ thoughts were cut off by the sound of a car door slamming closed. A figure approached the side of the road looking down at Stiles’ jeep. A small fire had started up and Stiles dragged himself farther away from the vehicle. 

“Stiles? You alive down there?”

Stiles froze. Matt? That had definitely been Matt’s voice. 

“Stiles? Buddy? I want it back.”

What? Want what back?

Stiles didn’t say anything. He began to slowly, and as quietly as he could, back farther into the woods. 

“Stiles? Let’s just talk.”

Stiles was pretty sure Matt didn’t just want to talk. What Matt wanted exactly, Stiles didn’t know and he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. 

Stiles found his back to a tree. He was far enough from the flaming vehicle that his figure wouldn’t cast a shadow if he stood up. 

“Stiles! I’m coming down there. Hopefully to find you alive.”

Stiles’ heart was racing. He began pushing himself up off the ground, using the tree as support. He made a lot of noise, crunching the leaves of the ground and groaning as he straightened. 

“Stiles?” 

Stiles took off. 

Stiles found himself running. He ran through the woods, slowly and painfully, away from where he had crashed. The presence that haunted him followed. Stiles used the trees he passed by to carry him farther into the woods. He didn’t know where he was or where he was going. He just ran. 

Stiles hadn’t been expecting anything from Matt so quickly. He didn’t actually know if anything was going to happen. He had hoped he was wrong. Why couldn’t he just have been wrong? 

Stiles ran until he stumbled to the ground unable to breathe. He pressed himself against the nearby stump. It was rather large to be a normal stump but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He had a feeling he was somewhere very familiar, he just couldn’t get his mind to wrap around the memory.

He tried to calm his breath. 

“Stiles.” His name was drawn out in a sing-song manner. 

Stiles clutched at his shirt right above his heart as he struggled to breathe. The pounding against his knuckles was a welcomed feeling. His heart was beating. That was good. He was still alive. However, it was beating much too quickly to be healthy. He could feel the panic attack building in his chest. This was it. This was Lydia’s dream. Stiles was going to die in the forest. 

Despite the impossibility of it, Stiles wished he had grabbed his bat from the jeep. He needed something to protect himself with. 

“Stiles. Whoa there, having trouble breathing?” 

Stiles watched Matt emerge from almost exactly where he himself had stumbled through.

“Does it feel like you’re drowning? I get night terrors like that. Did Isaac tell you? About that night.”

Stiles grasped at the ground for stability, all he got was a handful of dirt. 

“Did he tell you how his brother and his friends threw me into the water and let me drown? Did he tell you about how his father pulled me out and blamed me for the incident? Because everyone should know how to swim, stupid boy.” 

“Matt…” Stiles’ voice came out weaker than he had wanted.

“Give it back, Stiles.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Stiles tried to push himself off the ground but failed. He gave up trying to move and instead attempted to gain control over his breathing. 

“I deserve it. Give back the Nogitsune.”

“Kira?” Stiles asked in confusion.

“No- do you really not know anything? I thought you were the great Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff’s son and natural investigator.”

“No one is born perfect.” Stiles managed between breaths. If he could calm himself down enough, Stiles was sure he could make another run for it. 

“You took him from me, Stiles. He was my ticket for revenge.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Because you aren’t worthy!” Matt’s face contorted with anger and his voice rang out in the silence. “Why you? Why did you pick him?” 

Stiles felt rather uneasy at the way Matt was talking as if there was another person there. 

“Because I couldn’t figure out your stupid riddle? I can figure it out. Everyone has it, but no one can lose it. I can figure it out. I can be worthy!” Matt continued. “Everyone has it, but no one can lose it.” Matt repeated to himself.

Stiles could hear the desperation in Matt’s voice, could see the pain and fear in his eyes. Matt’s hands were angrily pulling at the ends of his hair as he stood at the edge of the clearing. His head was pointed skyward and he was mumbling to himself. 

Matt was exactly what Stiles would have become if he hadn’t met Scott. The thought struck Stiles. Maybe not exactly, but the desperation and loneliness emanating from Matt was too relatable for Stiles to bear. 

“A shadow.”

“What?” Matt’s head snapped in Stiles’ direction. 

“The answer to the riddle.” Stiles supplied. He didn’t know why he had the urge to blurt the answer, especially since it seemed to only anger Matt even more.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” 

Something in Stiles seemed to react to Matt’s pain and misery. He felt something light up with energy. It was a horrid feeling; feeling joy in someone else's pain. Something was wrong with him. His face slipped and he let the surprise show on his face.

Something in Matt’s head seemed to register and his expression softened.

“You feel him, don’t you?”

“Feel what?” Stiles shifted uncomfortably.

“That. The feeling of power from pain. You felt it. You felt him.” Matt approached Stiles rather quickly, crouching down to meet Stiles eye-to-eye. “He is going to destroy you, Stilinski. You can’t handle him.”

“Whatever it is, Matt, whatever it is you want, take it. I don’t want it. I don’t want to be involved.” 

“You should have thought about that before you joined a pack of werewolves, Stiles.”

Matt stood and walked around the stump and out of Stiles’ immediate view.

“Matt? Come on. You wanted to talk, so let’s talk. What does the pack have to do with this?” 

Stiles pushed himself up off the ground and limped a couple feet away from the tree stump. He turned to find himself in the presence of the Nemeton once again; this time under less than pleasant circumstances. He remembered the night Scott, Lydia, and Derek had taken him here. They were hoping he would recognize it. He hadn’t felt anything back then. Now the memory sparked to life. 

Emotions he shouldn’t be feeling, anger and feeling trapped, seeped into his mind. 

Matt was running his fingertips along the top of the Nemeton. His face was still contorted in anger and desperation. 

“What is the Nogitsune, Matt? What does it want?”

“Haven’t you read about it, Stiles? In that little book of Latin you found in the library?”

Stiles’ eyes widened in surprise.

“Yeah, I know about the book. How do you think it go into that section of the library? You’re closer to this than you think, Stilinski.”

“You-”

“The Nogitsune.” Matt corrected. “The fox spirit who thrives on pain and misery.” 

Matt lifted his head to meet Stiles eyes. 

“I did what you asked. You owe me.”

“Matt-”

“Shut up, Stiles!” 

“Matt, listen. We can get you help. We can talk to someone about this. I’ll help you-”

“You’ll help me? You can’t even help yourself. Pathetic little Stiles got run off the road. You are stumbling around like an idiot in the woods in the middle of the night. You don’t even know what gift you’ve been given!”

“This isn’t you, Matt. Whatever this is-”

“You don’t get it, do you?”

“Matt, if you would talk to me-”

“Give it back!” 

Stiles wasn’t prepared for the moment Matt ran at him and tackled him. Stiles was having difficulty tracking any sort of movements, including his own. He was pretty sure he had a concussion. 

They both landed on the ground, their shoulders landing with a hard enough impact to make Stiles feel like they shook the ground. Stiles struggled to remain in control of the situation. Matt had the advantage of not being totally wrecked from the car crash. 

It was the first time that Matt’s fist collided with his face that Stiles heard the voice. It made his skin crawl in disgust. 

_ What gets bigger the more you take away? _

At first he thought it was Matt, but he was looking at Matt and he hadn’t said anything. 

“What?” Stiles asked even though he knew Matt couldn’t give him an answer. 

_ You don’t understand? It’s a riddle. Do you know any riddles, Stiles?  _

Movement behind Stiles caught his eye and Stiles shifted his focus to it. A figure lurked in the dark a few feet away. 

Matt seemed to notice the shift of attention and followed his line of sight. Stiles felt a little less crazy when Matt showed signs of being able to see the figure as well. Matt pushed himself up off of Stiles and into a standing position. His body was facing the unexpected visitor.

“What gets bigger the more you take away?” The voice was like nails scraping on a chalk board. It ground at Stiles’ senses. 

“Don’t answer him, Stiles.” Matt didn’t remove his eyes from the person.

“Matt?” Stiles tried to get Matt’s attention but he was entirely focused on the mummified figure in front of them. The man was wearing some sort of uniform and wore bandages wrapped around his face.

“You owe me.”

“I owe nothing.”

“You promised me revenge!”

“You had your chance.” 

The movement was so quick it took Stiles a moment for Stiles to catch up. The figure seemed to have teleported directly in front of Matt, his arm moved in one swift moment and then Matt was being thrown across the clearing. Stiles could hear the impact of Matt’s body hitting the ground. 

At the sound of the crunch, a pain shot through Stiles’ torso. A scream erupted from his chest and vocalized itself. Stiles’ eyes pinched closed. When he opened them again he was back in the jeep. 

“Stiles? Stiles? Are you okay? Hey.” 

A hand was resting on his shoulder. Stiles recognized the voice, he knew who it was but it took him a moment to find his words.

“Derek?”

“Stiles. You were in an accident.” 

Derek helped ease Stiles into a sitting position rather than slumped over the steering wheel.

“Yeah. I know. Matt? The other car?”

“There was no one here, Stiles. You drove off the road.”

“No- that’s not what happened.”

“Try not to move. You hit your head pretty badly. Don’t move.”

Stiles let his head fall back against the seat. He didn’t understand what had happened, was he hallucinating? 

Stiles’ leg hurt- a lot. He stole a quick glance down just to make sure his leg was still attached. It was pinched between the seat and a tree branch that had disconnected from the trunk after impact but otherwise intact. 

When Stiles went to steal a glance at Derek, he was gone. Fear was suddenly a very vibrant emotion inside his chest. It felt like the Matt and Nogitsune moment he had just lived through. If he had hallucinated it all, he could be hallucinating Derek. Maybe it was like one of those as you are dying you hallucinate your deep down crush or something to help guide you to the light. 

However, Stiles felt very much alive. He needed to be sure though. 

“Derek?”

“Yeah, I’m right here.”

“Do you have something I can read?”

“You want something to read, right now? Seriously?” 

“Please.”

“Yeah, okay.” Derek pulled something out of his pocket and held it in front of Stiles’ face. The object was Derek’s driver’s licence. Stiles read “New York State. Driver License. Class D. Hale, Derek” as well as “DOB 11-07” before succumbing to the pain in his head and closing his eyes. He could read. That’s all he needed. He wasn’t dreaming. 

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. What was that for?”

“To make sure I’m awake and not sleeping.”

“Why would you be sleeping?”

“I don’t know.” Stiles wasn’t so sure why he was suddenly terrified of not being awake. Derek moved in Stiles’ peripheral, disappearing for a moment.

“Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you not move? I feel better when there is someone in my peripheral.” Stiles slurred the last word and attempted to say it again. He attempted it one last time before saying fuck it and giving up. 

“I won’t move until someone else gets here.”

“Good. Good.” Stiles felt himself drifting asleep. 

“Hey. You aren’t allowed to sleep. Try to stay awake.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. Talk.”

“Talk about what?”

“I don’t know, Stiles. Whatever you have going on in that chaotic brain of yours.”

“I’m gonna try not to take offence to that.”

“It was meant as a compliment.”

“Complement accepted. Your birthday is November seventh?”

“No. The license is fake.”

“You lied about your birthday on a fake license? Really?”

“Yeah.”

“So when is your birthday?”

Silence answered Stiles.

“Come on. You told me to talk. I’m talking.”

“December twenty-fifth.” 

“Ah, a Christmas baby.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Alright, Sourwolf.” Then he asked a question that had been on his mind for a minute or so. “How bad am I bleeding?” Stiles turned his head, ignoring the pain that shot up the back of his neck.

A pained expression passed over Derek’s face. 

“Lay it on me.” Stiles insisted.

“You’ll live.”

“Oh good. I didn’t know living was even an alternative.”

“What the hell were you thinking, Stiles?”

Stiles thought of a million different ways he could answer that question. He could use sarcasm, he could launch into a philosophical discussion about thought, he could- but he was too tired.

“I was heading to the loft.” Stiles said in defeat.

“And you decided to drive off the side of the road into a ditch and some trees?”

“I’m telling you, somebody hit me.” 

“Stiles, there are no signs of it on your jeep.”

“Then I’m going crazy.” 

“Stiles-”

“Get me out of here.”

“Help is coming.”

“Get me out of the jeep, Derek. Get me out of it.” Stiles could feel the pressure building in his chest. He needed a chance to breathe, he needed to get out of the jeep. 

Derek looked hesitant to even try to move Stiles. Stiles gave up waiting for help and shifted his position. He let out a noise laced in surprise and pain when his leg protested at the movement. He assumed the fact that he could feel it was a good sign. 

“Stiles, you shouldn’t move.”

“Derek, you can either help me or shut up.”

“Stiles, you’re-”

“Only human. Yes. A human who is injured, in pain, and about to have a panic attack. Get me the hell out of this vehicle or I will punch you in your stupid werewolf face.”

Derek sighed before reaching for the door handle and yanking the door open. Stiles cringed at the sound his jeep made. It hurt. This was the last thing he had of his mother and he had crashed it into some trees. Derek placed his hand on Stiles’ shoulder and Stiles instantly felt himself relaxing. His eyes fluttered closed.

“Stiles?”

“What are you doing? Why do I suddenly feel so tired?” Stiles managed.

“I’m drawing out some of your pain. It’s part of the perks of being a werewolf.”

“That’s a handy trick.”

“Yeah, it is. Are you sure you still want me to pull you out? Because it is going to hurt. A lot.”

“Please.”

Derek’s hands lifted off of Stiles and Stiles suddenly felt very alone. Stiles opened his eyes and watched Derek shift the tree branch up off of Stiles’ leg. Stiles did his best to suppress his yell, groaning at the pain instead. Without even have done anything, Stiles was panting. He was trying to get as much oxygen into his lungs as he could. 

“Are you okay?” Derek asked, his eyebrows pulled up in question. 

“Fine. I’m fine. Get me out of here.” 

“Alright.” 

Derek wrapped one hand behind Stiles’ back and the other under his legs. Stiles let Derek lift him out of the jeep. Stiles let out a shout of pain as Derek lifted him out of the jeep.

“Stiles?”

“I’m fine.” 

Derek moved them a good distance away from the jeep and laid Stiles on the ground, his upper back leaning against Derek’s thigh. Derek’s hand was placed at the base of Stiles’ neck and shoulder. Stiles assumed he was doing the pain-leech thing. As Stiles sat there he felt himself drifting into a lulling sleep. 

“Derek, stop.”

“Stop what?”

“The pain-leech. Stop.”

“It’s just a little.”

“Stop. I can’t think straight when you are doing it.” 

“What do you need to be thinking about at a moment like this?” Derek verbally argued but removed his hand from Stiles’ neck nonetheless. 

“Thank you. I just- Does it hurt?”

Derek seemed to hesitate with his answer. Stiles waited patiently. What else could he do?

“Yes. Draining your pain means taking it for myself. I heal faster though.” 

Derek moved to place his hand back on Stiles’ skin but Stiles shook his head.

“I’m fine.” Stiles didn’t like the idea of anybody taking his pain. The relief the pain-leech gave him was enjoyable, but the pain made him feel alive. He could suffer a little bit for that feeling. 

“You need to stay awake.” Derek reminded him. 

“Are you going to talk?”

“I’ll reply.”

Stiles couldn’t help the small chuckle that rumbled inside of his chest. He could feel the pain of what he assumed was a fractured rib but did his best to ignore it. 

“Where is everyone at? How did you find me?” Stiles opened his eyes and tilted his head to get a better look at Derek’s face. It was dark but Stiles could easily make out the outline of Derek’s perfect jaw and could easily see Derek’s eyes blazing full of life. 

“Scott tried to call you. When he couldn’t reach you, Lydia got a bad feeling. She screamed, Stiles.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Death. It means death.”

“What happened next?” Stiles asked. He didn’t want to talking about death or dying. He had felt that earlier and didn’t want to remember it in this moment. Derek’s voice, although only explaining how he found Stiles, reminded Stiles of a storyteller. 

“We split up. Scott, Isaac, and Malia went to your house. Boyd and Erica went to the college campus to see if they could find either you or Matt. Jackson and Lydia went to see a friend of Jackson’s to try and track your phone-”

“Danny.” Stiles supplied. A small smile lifted the corner of his lips. 

“Yeah, I guess. Jackson texted me after they met up with the friend- Danny- and sent me the last known GPS coordinates of your phone. Everyone else is on their way. An ambulance and your father are coming too.”

“Oh great. Just what I need. A giant crowd to witness the spectacle that is Stiles Stilinski.” Stiles shut his eyes. “Are you sure that no one hit me?”

“It doesn’t look like it. Stiles, what happened?”

Stiles sighed but remained quiet. He had seen the car hit his jeep. It had driven him off the road. It had felt so real. Getting out of his jeep, running through the woods, fighting with Matt. It had all felt so real. If it hadn’t happened- if he was going crazy- 

Derek shook his shoulder and Stiles snapped out of his thoughts.

“Stiles?”

Stiles could have sworn there was some panic laced with concern in Derek’s voice. 

“I’m fine.”

“So you keep saying. I had to carry you over here, I don’t consider that fine.”

“I think I’m going crazy, Derek. I think I know how I die and I don’t think the supernatural has anything to do with it.”

“What are you talking about?” 

Derek’s voice seemed to shift from panic to devoid of any emotions. Stiles wondered how he did it; switched on and off the emotions that plagued him daily. 

“I saw someone, felt someone hit the jeep. I ran through these woods and ended up at the Nemeton. Matt was chasing me and there was something else there. It all felt so real. If it’s not real-” Stiles voice broke off at the sound of sirens in the distance. “You can’t tell anyone.”

“Stiles…”

“Not a word, Derek. I just need to figure some things out. Please.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“And you’re the king of good ideas?” 

Silence was his response. 

Stiles closed his eyes and listened as the sirens grew louder each second. 

“Derek?”

A grunt signaled to Stiles that Derek had heard him.

“If I’m about to die- and hear me out- if that happens-” Stiles felt Derek tense underneath him. Stiles wondered for a moment what Derek thought he was going to say. “do me a favor and don’t let Scott give me the bite. I don’t think I’d be a very good werewolf, besides, I’d lose all my spastic charms.” 

Derek remained tense even after Stiles finished. 

“Don’t be an idiot. Scott wouldn’t let you die-”

“That’s why I’m not telling Scott this.” Stiles knew how it sounded. “I’m not saying this because I think you are a cold-blooded killer, Derek. I actually have a sneaky suspicion that underneath your Sourwolf persona you are a big cuddly werewolf who enjoys belly rubs and hugs.” 

Derek let out a small growl, an actual growl, and Stiles couldn’t help the smile that lit his face. Stiles must have hit the nail right on the head. He was good at figuring people out. 

“I just think I can trust you with this.”

“Shut up.”

“I thought you wanted me to continue talking? You know- to stay awake.”

“I changed my mind. Shut up and sleep or something. You are talking nonsense because you lost a lot of blood.” 

Maybe Derek was right, but Stiles liked his current ability to speak so freely. 

“Were we ever going to talk about the night at the club?” Stiles asked, the question slipping from his mouth. 

The sirens continued to grow louder and he was pretty sure they only had a few seconds before the ambulance and his father showed up. 

“I don’t know.”

A million reasons why Derek wouldn’t want to talk about it crossed Stiles’ mind, however, his thoughts concentrated on one in particular. Derek just wasn’t interested in anything involving Stiles. He was probably just helping him now because of Scott and Lydia. He was doing this so his pack wouldn’t be upset with him. 

“Alright, that’s fine. I get the message.”

“Stiles, that’s-”

“Stiles?!” 

A yell cut Derek off and Stiles breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t dead before he saw his dad again. 

“Down here!” Derek yelled back. 

Stiles heard a group of people mimic his name. Scott and the rest of the pack must have driven up with his father. Stiles heard the crunch of leaves as footsteps approached them. 

“Jesus Christ-”

“No, I think you missed him by a few thousand years.” Stiles interjected and he opened his eyes to greet his father’s worried face.

“Stiles-”

“I’m fine. Really. Just a few scratches.”

Stiles felt a hand press against his side and he let out a hiss of pain. Stupid Derek for giving him away. 

“He can’t walk. Can they get that thing down here or should I just carry him up?” 

Derek was referring to the paramedics and the stretcher. 

Stiles wasn’t stupid enough to fight the “he can’t walk statement” and instead just let himself rest against Derek’s thigh. 

“Can you handle carrying him up there?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Stiles, we are gonna bring you to the stretcher. We are going to the hospital. You had be scared to death, kid.”

The Sheriff took Stiles’ hand in his own and Stiles felt the overwhelming urge to cry. He had been so selfish this entire time and hadn’t even thought of his father. Stiles held back any tears and nodded his apologies, afraid his voice wouldn’t last. 

“Stiles, I’m going to shift you and then pick you up. It’s going to hurt.”

Stiles nodded, suddenly losing the ability to even focus on the words. The adrenaline of the night and Derek’s pain-leech must have been wearing off. 

Derek shifted and lifted Stiles like he said he would. Stiles couldn’t hold back the yell that erupted from his throat. The pain in his leg and chest spiked to new levels and Stiles realized just how injured he was. He couldn’t have ran through the woods away from Matt. He wouldn’t even stand on his own now. 

At the sound of his scream, Stiles heard the echo of his name start up again, Scott’s voice rising above the rest. 

Derek carried Stiles up to the road, his father in his peripheral. The stretcher and paramedics were waiting for them there, ready to receive their patient. 

Derek laid Stiles onto the cushioned moving platform and Stiles turned to his father. 

“Sorry ‘bout the jeep.”

“It’s a jeep, Stiles. I’m just glad you are okay.”

“Yeah, but that’s the only thing left of mom.” Stiles mumbled in response.

“That’s where you are wrong, kid. I have you.”

Stiles choked back a sob. He didn’t really understand why he was feeling so emotional. It was probably the pain and blood loss. Or maybe he was just overdue for some stress-relieving tears. 

“Stiles?”

Stiles turned his head away from his father and toward Scott. 

“Dude, I was freaking out. You didn’t answer your phone and I went to your house and you weren’t there. I called everybody I knew. I texted my mom to check the hospital-”

“Scott.”

“I should have gone with you today. I should have-”

“Scott.”

“I am so sorry-”

“Scott, shut up. I’m fine.”

Stiles heard his father scoff from the other side of him. 

“I’m alive, I’m semi-coherent, I’m fine.” Stiles clarified. A sharp pain shot through Stiles leg and he muffled a moan. “I should probably really go to a hospital though. I may or may not be bleeding.”

“Can I-” Scott hesitated but Stiles knew what he wanted to ask. 

Stiles didn’t have to answer though; his father spoke before he could.

“Hop on in.” 

Stiles closed his eyes and smiled. He had people around him, people who cared; he didn’t think he would have been able to say that before meeting Scott and the pack. Of course, he had his father. They always had each other. There was just something different about having people other than your parent with your well-being as one of their concerns. 

The stretcher moved and Stiles lost track of the voices that spoke around him. He was pretty sure he could hear Derek sending the pack away. Lydia argued and declared herself following the ambulance to the hospital. He thought he heard his father mumble something about what Stiles had gotten himself into. 

Scott wrapped his fingers around the underside of Stiles’ wrist and Stiles suddenly felt lighter. Stiles immediately remembered this same feeling of bliss from when Derek had done the pain-drain. Stiles did his best to give Scott a glare. He thought he failed to send his message, but Scott seemed to understand his meaning. Scott shrugged in response but released his grip on Stiles’ wrist. 

It was then that Stiles could feel everything, every pain, in his body. The paramedics, one on each side, were playing with a bunch of medical supplies, running an IV drip of some sort into his arm and checking his vitals. 

Stiles’ chest constricted and all Stiles could do was focus on his breathing. It didn’t feel like a panic attack and the way the paramedics reacted confirmed his suspicions. The words around him didn’t register and he found himself breathing a bit easier with the help of a plastic contraption over his face. 

It was going to be a long night. Stiles apologized once more to his father before he passed out.


	21. Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s been like three days, Stiles.” Lydia pointed out.
> 
> “Three days of torture.”
> 
> “Ironic since we are in a place of healing.”

Stiles woke up in the hospital in pain and exhausted. 

It wasn’t like he woke up suddenly, eyes open and everything. Stiles slowly realized he was coming to before he was even capable of opening his eyes. It was like his mind had rebooted and he was slowly becoming aware of his body and surroundings. His hearing came back first, he could hear a machine beeping quietly and someone breathing to his right. Then Stiles was able to move his fingers, they twitched slightly as they adjusted to moving for the first time in a while. He heard someone take in a breathe beside him before a hand touched his arm. 

“Stiles?”

His father’s voice was like music to his ears. Stiles wanted to open his eyes and look at his father, but he wasn’t there yet. It wasn’t a choice, he wanted to open his eyes but he physically could not. 

Stiles took stock of his injuries. His leg, the one that had been held between the branch and seat, felt heavy and immovable. Stiles hoped that when he looked he would still have a leg there. His chest ached slightly with every breath and his entire body was sore, but he was alive. Stiles was alive.

Stiles pried his eyes open, the crust from keeping them close peeled away. Stiles tilted his head to face his father, a small smile pulling at his lips. 

It was meant to comfort his father, but his father’s face seemed to crumble further at the sight. Stiles needed to let his dad know he was okay, so he tried to make the smile bigger.

Stiles took stock of his surroundings after the initial glance toward his father. His eyes swept the room. The lights were dimmed and Stiles was alone with his father. 

He was in a hospital room, a private room away from other patients. Stiles didn’t know how his father could even think of getting him a private room when they couldn’t afford it. Stiles instantly felt guilty for making his father have to worry about hospital bills again. 

Stiles turned back toward his father. 

“Hey, dad.” Stiles croaked. His voice was harsh even to his own ears. Stiles coughed and let out a sigh. 

“Jesus, Stiles. You scared the shit out of me.” His father had a hand on the top of his head, petting Stiles’ hair back in a habitual movement. 

Stiles could picture his father worrying and doing that movement as Stiles slept.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“What were you even doing- what happened, Stiles? God, kid. You nearly died on your way to the hospital.”

“I-” Stiles hesitated. What was he supposed to tell his father? 

That he imagined someone running him off the road? Maybe he could lie and tell his father a deer ran in front of the jeep and he overcorrected. His father would probably throw a fit and take the jeep from him for a while but that would be a small price to pay in comparison to being crazy. 

Stiles pictured the incident in his head, replaying the moment the jeep went off road. It was odd. After Derek had told him no one ran him off road, Stiles was able to recall it like that. Him getting a sudden fear, a gut wrenching feeling in his gut, and then driving off the road. In another version, a car hits the jeep, sending it spiralling down into the trees.

The jeep. 

Stiles’ heart fell. He had seen how the jeep looked that night. He thought of his mother. 

Before Stiles could answer his father’s initial question, there was a knock at the door. Both Stiles and his father lost track of their conversation with the interruption. The door opened shortly after the knock occurred and a nurse walked in. His attention was immediately drawn to Stiles and the fact that he was awake. 

The male nurse immediately walked over to Stiles bed and began fiddling with things. 

“How are you feeling?” The nurse asked him. 

“My head hurts.” Stiles croaked. “I could also use some water.” 

The nurse gave him a small smile. 

“I’ll get right on it, but first, I need to check a few things.” 

“Thank you.” Stiles’ father said, nodding his appreciation for the nurse checkin on his son. 

“How does this feel?” The nurse asked as he lightly pressed against Stiles’ leg. 

The touch was barely there, but Stiles cringed at the pain it caused. The nurse took that as his answer. 

“We’ll up his dose to help with that. The doctor will be right in in a few minutes.” The nurse gave Stiles a small smile, inclined his head toward the Sheriff and left the room. 

“How long was I out?” Stiles finally asked. He hoped he hadn’t missed much. He didn’t want to spend more than a day catching up with everything in his classes. 

“Your surgery took a couple hours and then after than you were out for maybe twenty hours?” The Sheriff checked his watch and nodded. 

Too long, Stiles thought. But somehow it felt like he hadn’t gotten any rest at all. 

Twenty hours. He could have missed so much during that time; he wasn’t just talking about his classes. Did the pack figure anything new out?

“How are you feeling, kid?”

Stiles was snapped out of his thoughts. He had been staring the the blanket cover his lower half. He turned to his father and tried a small smile again.

“I feel fine, dad. Just a bit-” Stiles groaned. “Just feeling a bit sore and maybe a little bit in pain.” 

“You broke two ribs, have a concussion, and ruptured a tendon in that leg, pain is to be expected.”

“So that’s what that pain was.” Stiles tentatively touched his side. He could feel the bandage through the thin hospital gown he was wearing. 

Stiles broke into a smile when he heard his father try to stifle a small laugh. He knew it was a serious situation, he did, but the small laughs and smiles made him feel better. He wanted his father to know it was okay, that Stiles was okay, and that it wasn’t anything serious. Stiles was still alive and breathing. 

The familiar color of the pillowcase caught his attention and Stiles turned his head as much as he dared to get a better look at it. 

His father seemed to notice his sudden interest in it. 

“I brought your pillow from home. I figured it would help with- you know.”

Stiles smiled and settled against it. 

“Thank you, dad.”

The nurse came back a few moments later with some water and Stiles smiled gratefully. 

“I could marry you.” Stiles said at the sight of the water. 

“Stiles!” His father scolded. 

The nurse just chuckled. 

“I’m honored, but I don’t think my boyfriend would approve.” 

Stiles’ smile grew into a shiteating grin. He took the water from the nurse eagerly.

“Drink slowly. You don’t want to make yourself sick.” The nurse, Sean Walcott, reprimanded him after Stiles went to chug the cup. 

Stiles slowed, taking his time with the rest of the water. Stiles let out an exaggerated sigh of happiness after finishing the water. 

“I take it back, I could marry this cup of water.” 

His father rubbed the bridge of his nose but the nurse laughed. 

“I’ll get you a pitcher of water so you can keep it filled.”

With the increase of his pain medication, Stiles grew tired. He wound up passing out as his father spoke about the accident. Stiles didn’t do it on purpose. Well, not entirely. A part of him wasn’t ready to talk or think about it. The other wanted his father to reassure him and tell him he wasn’t crazy. Instead, Stiles fell asleep. He let the drugs lull him into the darkness of his subconscious mind. 

Stiles didn’t want to dream, but things rarely ever went his way. Stiles dreamt of the accident. He was driving down the road to the loft when a car came out of nowhere and slammed into the jeep. The vehicle went off road and he felt the collision of the jeep slamming into the tree trunk, felt the impact of his head against the steering wheel, and heard the sound of a branch overhead snapping from its place in the tree and falling through the windshield. Stiles pulled himself from the jeep. Sitting on the grass, staring at the jeep, the branch caught Stiles’ eye. 

How had he gotten it off his leg? How had he pulled himself from the deathtrap that was the mangled jeep?

When Stiles tried to think about it, the dream seemed to rewind.

He was driving down the road to the loft. He had just realized how dark it was when a figure appeared out of nowhere. The man stood in the middle of the road, his back turned toward Stiles. Stiles swerved to avoid hitting him, overcorrected, and drove off road and into the tree. 

In his dream, Stiles didn’t remember getting out of the jeep. He went from sitting, pinned in the jeep to crawling away from the wreckage. He couldn’t remember getting out of the jeep. 

Stiles was driving down the road. The figure was there again, and Stiles overcorrected. Despite knowing what was going to happen, Stiles couldn’t just slam on the breaks or avoid overcorrecting. It was like he was reliving a memory rather than dreaming. 

His head slammed against the steering wheel, and rather than blacking out and losing consciousness like he had previously, a voice called out to him. It sent chills down his spine, making him want to curl up and cover his ears. 

“Stiles” The creature that spoke dragged out his name. 

Stiles imagined it being the voice of a snake if it could talk. 

“Stiles.” It said again. “When is a door, not a door?”

“I don’t know.” Stiles heard himself say. Why did it matter when a door wasn’t a door?

“When is a door, not a door?” The thing chanted. It continued to ask over and over again, growing more impatient as it took longer for Stiles to answer.

Stiles wanted to cover his ears, to scream at the thing to stop, but he couldn’t. The voice continued to chant the riddle, forcing Stiles to want nothing more than for it to stop. 

“When is a door, not a door?” It asked again more forcefully.

“When it’s ajar.” Stiles answered finally. 

Stiles was sitting a few feet away from the jeep, staring at the wreckage that was his mother’s final gift to him. He knows he didn’t drag himself from the jeep, knows someone- something- helped him. Then he heard Matt’s voice, and he started to run. 

Stiles stumbled into the clearing where he was confronted by Matt. This time however, there wasn’t another person. Stiles answered the riddle Matt was struggling with, and something clicked inside of him. It felt like a sliding lock on a very big, very metal door slid from its secured position. There wasn’t another figure in the woods that Matt was screaming at for revenge. It was Stiles. 

Stiles traveled from the place in the woods where the Nemeton was, back in his jeep, pinned there, unable to move. 

Stiles startled awake in the hospital bed, gasping as he struggled to breath. Stiles forced himself to calm, hoping he was alone and no one noticed his random outburst. He didn’t know why he was in a panic. He knew it involved his dream, but he couldn’t remember it. Something had torn his nerves to shreds, but he couldn’t remember what and that bothered him just as much as it scared him. 

Stiles looked around the room for something he could read. He ignored the pain that shot through his body, groaning and grunting as he rummaged around for something to read. He found the instructions to the bed remote on a nearby table and scanned the words. He could read. He could still read. 

When his breathing finally calmed, Stiles noticed that he was in-fact alone. His father wasn’t in the hospital room. The lights were off and the door and blinds were closed. The thought of being alone was a frightening thing. He was tired and pretty sure the shadows were moving, taunting him.

Stiles assumed the older Stilinski was either working or home getting a shower and some dinner. At least, that’s what Stiles hoped his father was doing. It would mean that his father understood Stiles was fine and would be fine.

Stiles leaned back against the pillows of the bed and closed his eyes. Sleep came quickly, this time without the horrors that haunted his sleep previously. His entire body ached, but the pain in his head screamed the loudest.

He didn’t dream this time, just slept. 

Stiles stirred, waking from his sleep for an unknown reason. He opened his eyes slightly before turning his head and taking stock of his room. Stiles felt panic travel through his body at the sight of the figure by the window. 

Stiles’ eyes widened in fear and he tried to sit up. The figure turned and Stiles let out a sigh of relief. It was only Derek. It wasn’t- Stiles stopped himself from thinking about it. 

Stiles dropped himself back against his pillow and groaned. 

“I’m pretty sure sneaking into someone's hospital room is highly frowned upon.”

“Stiles-”

“It is. I think it may even be illegal.” 

Derek let out a low growl and Stiles raised an eyebrow. 

“They also frown upon animals in hospitals. Down, Fido.”

“I think I like you better when you are dealing with blood loss.” Derek grumbled. 

Stiles wasn’t sure if it was an actual threat and offer to removed some of Stiles’ blood from his body or playful banter so he decided not to push his luck.

Stiles instinctively reached for the piece of paper he had read off of earlier. He was too frightened about the possibility of not being awake. He needed to assure himself. 

He could feel Derek’s eyes on him as he read the page. Rather than wait for Derek to comment on it, Stiles changed the subject.

“You can’t tell anyone about anything I said that night.” The thought that Derek would say something to Scott or his father terrified Stiles. “You can’t tell  _ anyone _ about it.”

“Stiles, you need to talk to someone about this-”

“I did. I spoke to you.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Look,” Stiles sighed and sat up a bit, using the bedside remote to move the bed for him, despite the pain, before answering. “I said some things, some things about-” Stiles stumbled, he didn’t know how to put it, “you know, the bite, and going crazy, and other things. I know I told you not to say anything that night, but I’m asking you again now, please. I need to figure this out.” 

Derek crossed his arms and the two just stared at each other. Stiles couldn’t help himself and let his eyes slide up and down Derek’s frame. Even in the dark, with the light of the moon shining at his back and casting a shadow across his face, Stiles could make out some of Derek’s most defined features. His body was pulled tight in a defensive position, ready to either fight or run in the face of danger. Although, Stiles was sure danger for Derek included any conversation about emotions and personal questions. Derek’s face was expressionless as usual, and Stiles wasn’t sure Derek would agree not to say anything. 

“You surprise me.” Derek said finally. 

Stiles raised an eyebrow but when he went to say something, Derek lifted his hand to silence him. So Stiles let his mouth close and waited. 

Waiting felt like a painful eternity, but he managed to stay silent. He wanted to hear what Derek had to say.

“You put yourself in danger, constantly ignoring your own safety-”

Stiles felt like he was being scolded. 

“But you do it with the well-being of others on your mind. You handled yourself with Barrow. You could have died, and you would have refused the bite-”

“Yeah, well if it sucks being a human involved in the supernatural, I can only assume being a werewolf sucks a whole lot more.” Stiles couldn’t help himself from interrupting.

Derek scowled at him but then the expression softened. 

“Step away from the pack, Stiles. Walk away.” 

Derek’s words startled him. 

“What?”

“Walk away.”

It took Stiles a moment before he could respond. He had to process what Derek was saying to him.

“You people are the ones that dragged me into this, and now you just want me to walk away?” Stiles looked at Derek in disbelief. “You have got to be kidding me. Fucking werewolves.”

“Think about your father-”

“Don’t you dare. I am already in this thanks to you-lot. I am seeing this through because I can’t just ignore this. You people told me I was going to die. Lydia’s dream and then her scream? How can I just ignore that now? This  _ is _ me thinking about my father.” Stiles raised his voice. During his small rant, Stiles had to remind himself to keep his voice down. He was in a hospital. 

Derek huffed before going back to the window. 

“Is that why you are here?” Stiles finally asked. He realized he didn’t actually know why Derek was in his hospital room. When Stiles had first seen Derek, all he had felt was relief that it wasn’t the dark void that was lurking in the back of his mind and memories. When Derek didn’t answer, Stiles pushed. “Derek.”

Derek shrugged before turning back to face Stiles. Derek went to say something before snapping his jaw closed and stewing in his own thoughts. 

Stiles grew impatient. He was tired of waiting to be included in things.

“I don’t need for you to pretend that you care. I don’t need you to feel bad for not wanting to talk about the night at the club. I get it.” Stiles didn’t know why his mind went to that night; it could have been because he remembered how Derek had reacted to a similar situation the night of the accident. “You are an Alpha looking out for his pack. I’m a human, who may or not be going crazy, who talks too much and seems to be causing a lot of problems. So why are you here? Why not send Scott or Jackson, or anyone else?”

When Derek didn’t say anything, Stiles sighed. 

“Can you just go? I’m tired.” And he was tired, but that wasn’t exactly why he wanted Derek to leave. He didn’t understand what Derek wanted or why he was there. It confused him and the confusion hurt his head. Stiles curled up on his side and closed his eyes, squeezing them shut in reaction to the pain he was feeling.

“Stiles, what are you going to tell your father?”

“I’ll figure it out.” Stiles mumbled in response.

Derek hesitated by the door.

“If you want someone to talk to, you know where to find me. And Stiles? I don’t think you’re crazy.” 

Stiles heard the door open and felt the light from the hall on his face. Derek’s words settled in Stiles’ mind and he continued to think about them until he fell asleep. 

If he wanted, no, if he needed to talk, Derek had opened his door. Why would the Alpha do that? In addition to that, Derek had told Stiles he didn’t think he was crazy. Stiles didn’t know if that actually meant that Derek believed what Stiles said, but it made him feel better. 

When Stiles opened his eyes the next morning, he found his father sitting in a chair to his right half asleep. 

“I saw a deer.” Stiles blurted out.

His father lifted his head off of his hand and turned to Stiles.

“What?”

“A deer. It ran across the road. I wasn’t expecting it and overcorrected. I didn’t realize what by hands were doing until I was heading toward the trees. I overreacted and messed up. I am so sorry, dad.” Stiles choked bad the tears he could feel forming.

“Hey, it’s okay. Stiles, I’m just glad you are okay.” Noah Stilinski pulled himself up out of the chair and made his way to the side of Stiles’ hospital bed. 

Two weeks. Stiles had to stay in the hospital for two weeks. Not only that, the doctor suggested a month of physical therapy. A month. These were things Stiles couldn’t afford; the bills and the time lost. 

“Dad, come on-”

“It’s nonnegotiable, Stiles.” 

“But-”

“You do as the doctor says.”

“But two weeks in this place? I’m going to go crazy. That had to be negotiable. Is my sanity not important to you?” Stiles batted his eyes in mock puppy-eyes face. 

“We’ll talk to the doctor in a week about getting you out earlier- but you have to stay in the hospital, following what the nurses and doctor tells you for a week.”

Stiles sighed. He could just sign himself out after a week, but he nodded anyway. He didn’t want his father to worry about him. To keep his father satisfied, Stiles could suffer in a hospital bed, bored out of his mind, for a week. 

“Good. I have to head to work. I hate to leave you but I’ve already taken time off.”

“It’s fine. I’m good, dad. You go. I’ll just be here.”

“Alright. I’ll check in with you later, kid.”

Stiles gave his father a thumbs up and watched the older Stilinski leave. When Stiles was finally alone, he left out a groan of displeasure. He hated hospitals. He hated the smell and the lack of people he could talk to. He wanted to be out there with the pack trying to figure this thing out.

Alone, Stiles stared up at the ceiling. He couldn’t sleep despite how exhausted he felt. Despite the many hours he spent sleeping, Stiles felt as if he were running on fumes. The inability to take his adderall only made things worse. He was allowed to take it, he just didn’t have it with him. His father was supposed to bring it from home when he had the chance. 

He had been in the hospital for three days. Three days and no one visited him. Okay, so the first two days he had basically slept the entire time but it still felt like he had been awake long enough for someone to visit him. He was going to go crazy with the lack of human interaction. Stiles didn’t blame the pack for not visiting him, they were all probably busy with classes, work, and pack related things. 

Stiles wasn’t bitter. No. Totally not. 

Stiles was laying back against the pillows trying to get some sleep. That was the only thing he could really do, although it wasn’t like he was really up for doing much. There was a knock at the door and Stiles didn’t even bother answering or opening his eyes. It was probably a nurse. It felt like they were in his room every five minutes. His father informed him it was closer to once every six hours. Stiles blamed the drugs and injuries for his distorted view of time. 

“Stiles?” The door opened and someone stepped into the room. 

Stiles immediately opened his eyes in recognition of the voice. Stiles couldn’t help the small smile that was on his face. Lydia and Scott stood in his doorway. 

“Hey.” Stile tried before clearing his voice and trying again. “Come on in.” 

Lydia seemed to hesitate a moment whereas Scott sported his signature puppy grin and marched himself to the side of Stiles’ bed. Lydia closed the door quietly behind them and went to sit in the chair to his right. 

“How are you feeling, man?” Scott asked, his hands resting on the side of the hospital bed. 

“Better.” Stiles replied. He did feel better, not great of back to his old self, but better. Stiles made an attempt to sit up and failed, forgetting it was nearly impossible to do in a hospital bed. Instead, he grabbed the bed remote and hit the button until he was sitting up. 

“You look-” Lydia hesitated. “Better. We all saw you that night. I was so worried.” Her voice cracked a bit.

Stiles held out his hand for her to take. After a moment, she did. 

“Derek told me that you screamed. Like, Banshee screamed.” 

She nodded. 

“But I’m not dead.”

“Yeah.” She nodded. 

“I don’t think the scream was for me, Lydia. I think it was for someone else. “

“What do you mean?” Scott asked, suddenly very curious about the conversation. 

“I don’t mean for this to be the conversation we have right now. You know, about death and all. Have you guys figured anything out?” Stiles looked between the two. 

Scott and Lydia shared a look. 

“What? Tell me.” 

“Matt is missing.”

“What does that mean? Missing how?” 

“No one has seen him since that night. He left the college and that was it.”

“But-” Stiles didn’t finish his thought. He could still be going crazy. According to both Derek and Stiles’  father, the jeep hadn’t been hit by another car or anything. Lydia screamed and Matt was missing. “What if it was Matt?”

“What if what was Matt?” Scott raised an eyebrow. 

The movement reminded him of Derek. Why did it remind him of Derek? Eyebrow movements were done by everybody. It was an everybody thing, not just a Derek thing. Stiles rubbed the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache coming on. Stupid concussion. 

“What if it was Matt who died? What if Matt is dead?” 

Lydia let out a small noise but Scott seemed to be the voice of reason in the room.

“We don’t know that. He could have just realized we were getting close and taken off.” 

“Yeah. You might be right.” Stiles said. A feeling in his gut said Scott wasn’t, but he wasn’t going to say anything more about it. He remembered the night in the woods, the way the creature- or was it Stiles? - had thrown Matt across the clearing. Stiles had heard the crack, but maybe that was just the sound of the tree branch landing on his jeep. 

“Are you sure you are okay, Stiles? You seem a bit-” Scott waved his hand around as if that explained what he was trying to say.

“A bit off?” When Scott nodded, Stiles continued with a sigh. “That would be the effects of no adderall and the addition of other drugs. I am stuck here for another week and a half and I’m miserable.” 

“It’s been like three days, Stiles.” Lydia pointed out. 

“Three days of torture.” 

“Ironic since we are in a place of healing.”

“How is everyone?” Stiles wanted to hear anything that could possible get his mind off of how he was probably going crazy. 

Scott launched into an epic story of his interactions with Kira, Erica’s semi-self-destructive behavior, and small mentions of the pack. 

When Scott and Lydia left, Stiles set the bed back into the down position and closed his eyes. Scott’s mom had came in, she was the nurse who happened to draw the honor of watching over Stiles tonight, and chased the two of his guests out. Stiles didn’t want them to leave but he was also a little bit grateful. He wasn’t feeling all that great anymore. The pain in his side had him wanting to curl into a ball but doing that hurt more than just laying straight. 

Stiles could hear Scott and Melissa talking in the hall. It was only for a moment, and Stiles had never wanted werewolf hearing before, but he was pretty sure they were talking about him. 

When Scott left, Melissa came back into the room. She tucked a strand of he wavy brown hair behind her ear and tilted her head in the caring way his mother used to do.

“How are you feeling, Stiles?”

“Like I fell out of bed onto a cold hard floor and haven’t slept in since.”

“Let’s see what I can do about that.” 

Stiles closed his eyes as Melissa tinkered with a few things off to his side. A few moments later, Stiles felt the muscles in his body relax and he let out a sigh. 

“How’s that? Better?” 

Melissa McCall ran her hand over the top of his head and for the minute he was still conscious, Stiles forgot where he was and who he was with. 

Someone was stroking his head and it reminded him of her.

“Thanks, mom.” He mumbled quietly as he drifted off to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little behind in writing the next chapter but I will do my best!   
> I love your comments!! They make me really happy and make me want to write and post more.   
> Let me know your thoughts! :) <3


	22. Homebound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Alright. It’s better than nothing.”
> 
> “Ever the optimist.”
> 
> “Someone has to be.”

Stiles was miserable in the hospital, but after the first week, the nightmares went away and Stiles felt himself beginning to think much clearer than he had since the accident. Stiles hated the phrase “the accident” because he felt like it belittled the events of that night. For him it was more than just driving off the road and into a tree. It was the fear and adrenaline coursing through his veins. It was the possibility of being unable to discern reality from imagination. It was the fact that he couldn’t explain to anyone what happened. It scared him. 

Going crazy wasn’t a major concern right now, it was a possibility that Stiles didn’t want to consider, because something had happened that night, and whatever it was, Stiles was going to figure it out. He repeated the phrase “I’m not crazy” to himself when he was alone and thinking about the events of that night, sometimes under his breath and sometimes in his head. It helped refocus his thoughts onto the realistic explanations of that night.

It was the one day in the hospital that Stiles wasn’t miserable. Tonight was the night he got to go home. The doctor had cleared him first thing in the morning. They had discussed it multiple days prior, but no one had been confident in Stiles’ ability to take care of himself enough to get out of the hospital early. That had made Stiles miserable. He could have just checked himself out, but the way his father looked at him, the look he had given Stiles after Claudia had died, broke Stiles’ heart. So he stayed, miserable, until today. 

His dad was supposed to get him at about five; it was only nine in the morning. Stiles, in a good mood from the news of being able to go home, did his best to thank every nurse or hospital staff member who walked by his room, for dealing with his uncooperative behavior. 

Stiles had been a menace of sorts to the hospital staff when he didn’t have visitors to distract him. He got bored too quickly, and one day, he left his bed and room without permission. Despite the pain in his leg, Stiles used the IV drip stand to help support his weight, he wandered around for a hour, sitting every so often to regenerate his energy and strength, before he limped back to his room to find a few of the nurses ready to report the Sheriff’s son missing. Melissa McCall scolded him the most about walking around on his leg. The only thing that got him to stay in bed for the rest of his stay was the threat of extending the weeks of recovery. 

There had been a huge misunderstanding one night, when Stiles had woken in the middle of the night to someone fiddling with his wires. Stiles had reacted, punching the person before realizing it was his favorite male nurse, Sean Walcott. It had been less of a punch and more of a spastic arm slap, but the nurses had decided to take precaution and wake him before they adjusted anything of checked on him. Stiles had apologized, and been assured that Sean had dealt with worse. 

Stiles was pretty sure Melissa enlisted her son’s help to give the staff a break from all that was Stiles Stilinski. Scott brought different movies and his game system every time he came to visit, spending a couple hours with Stiles before being chased out by another hospital staff member. 

Stiles did get other visitors besides Scott, although he was the one that visited the most. 

Lydia had visited a couple more times, dragging Jackson along with her once or twice. Jackson did look and sound upset with Stiles’ predicament although he bitched about Stiles not being at practice. In a way, Jackson had complimented him; reminding Stiles he was his teammate, albeit annoying, a good lacrosse player. Stiles had cracked a joke about someone paying him to say all that. Jackson called him an asshole and the two shared a laugh. Lydia had just stood off to the side, watching them bicker, a small smile dancing on her lips. Stiles had noticed. 

While Lydia was good at standing on the outskirts watching everyone, noticing everything, Stiles was an expert at it. Even if for the moment he was the center of attention, his watchful eyes didn’t miss the small details others so easily brushed off. His father was the Sheriff afterall. 

Isaac had showed up, once, early the second week, to the hospital, and he had brought Allison Argent with him. Stiles remembered the small moments in time when she was offhandedly mentioned. Stiles knew there was something between Scott, Isaac, and Allison. Some sort of tension and history there but he never pushed for more. Werewolf drama was not high on his list of priorities. 

Isaac had come into the room alone and asked Stiles if he was up for meeting her. Stiles had glanced down at himself, tucked under a hospital blanket and probably looking like a mess. He thought about it for a moment before nodding. His curiosity getting the better of him. Isaac had looked somewhat relieved at Stiles’ agreeance. 

When he returned, Isaac had looked nervous when he introduced her to Stiles. He stood at her side, his hands in front of him, his fingers fiddling with his shirt. 

Stiles suppressed a laugh. Isaac looked like he was introducing his girlfriend to his family.

“Stiles, this is Allison Argent. I wanted you to meet her. I know a hospital isn’t great for introductions or anything-”

She was beautiful, her brown waves of shoulder length hair tousled just right over her cardigan. Stiles didn’t know how hunters were supposed to look, but he certainly wasn’t expecting someone who looked so normal. Then again he was learning not to rely on expectations, because really, werewolves existed and they looked human for the most part. 

“The infamous Allison Argent? Descendant of the Largent family? A family of hunters.” Stiles interrupted Isaac. He caught the quick slip in Allison’s face at the mention of her French ancestors. “I did some research, way before I knew about you.” Stiles was quick to add. 

Isaac looked a bit uneasy at Stiles’ openness about his knowledge of her family history and Stiles raised a worried eyebrow.

“Sorry, was she not supposed to know I knew? I’m not very good at filtering my thoughts before I say things.”

“No, it’s fine. Isaac told me about you. A human running with a pack of werewolves and a banshee, I don’t know whether to call you stupid or brave.”

Stiles cracked a smile and gave a small shrug.

“A little bit of both. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”

“It is.” She gave him a small nod of agreement. “I hear you are trying to translate some Latin.”

“You know it?”

“Satis impetro per.” She smiled. “A bit. If you ever get stuck, I can try and help out. I’m not as good at it as I am with French, but I know enough to get by.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Isaac, buddy, you’ve been holding out on me.”

“I didn’t know she knew latin- I mean, I knew about the French. Otherwise I would have told you.”

“It’s fine. I was joking.”

While Stiles didn’t really know why Isaac had decided to bring Alison by, Stiles enjoyed the new company. She was witty and carried a good conversation. Stiles couldn’t resist the urge to ask about her family history and life as a hunter. She seemed pretty open to talking about the general things involving hunters, and Stiles didn’t push when she decided to keep some answers vague. It was her community and Stiles understood that she wanted to keep it safe. In return, Stiles told her about the website he had gotten the information about the Largent family from. She seemed really interested in anything relating to her French ancestors, so Stiles was happy to provide whatever he knew or anything found out about them. 

When they left, Stiles took a nap. Scott showed up later that evening but Stiles didn’t mention Isaac and Allison’s visit. He didn’t want to risk upsetting Scott or nosing his way into their business. If Scott wanted to talk about it, he would bring it up to Stiles.

When Scott was there, the feeling of loneliness dissipated some. When Scott was gone, Stiles felt alone and helpless. He sat in a hospital bed with two choices, sleep or stare at the door waiting for someone to walk in. 

He couldn’t focus on a computer screen long enough to do any homework for his classes, or any research, or searching for Matt. He had emailed all of his professors two days after the accident, they had all been pretty willing to let him review the lectures on his own and complete and turn in the assignments online during these past two weeks; he just needed to physically go in and take the tests he had missed. Stiles would take a couple more days before going back into class. 

Stiles would have read, but it hurt his head and the concussion made it very difficult to read for extended periods of time. Stiles couldn’t even fathom Latin enough in this state to read or translate the bestiary any. 

The bestiary. Stiles felt dirty just thinking about the book. If he wasn’t going crazy, and if everything Matt had told him had been true, then the only reason he had that book was because of Matt. Matt Daehler had pushed Stiles head first into the supernatural world. 

Stiles couldn’t stop thinking about Matt. He had a feeling in his gut that told him something was wrong. When Scott and Lydia told him that Matt was missing, Stiles’ mind jumped to one thought in particular; the image of Matt flying across the clearing and landing with a crack. 

Despite this, the pain, the worry, the fear, not once in the entire visit had Stiles considered abandoning the pack. He had spent the last few months really getting used to having Scott around. He even appreciated Jackson. He couldn’t walk away from the supernatural now. He couldn’t walk away from the pack. 

Stiles thought back to the night he woke up in the hospital room to find Derek standing at his window. Stiles hadn’t seen the other man since that night. Stiles thought about Derek’s last words. If he needed to talk, Derek had basically offered an ear. He had said he didn’t think Stiles was crazy; but maybe he was. Maybe Stiles was crazy. He was a human trying to run with werewolves after all. 

Stiles wanted to see Derek. He wanted to feel the reassurance of hearing those words again. Although if he wanted to hear those words again, he could probably just call Derek. Stiles did have his number after all. 

Stiles shook his head and rubbed his eyes. What would he even say? No. There was no reason to call Derek. Stiles was fine. 

Stiles sighed.

He needed a plan for when he got out of the hospital. 

He was strongly discouraged from doing any extraneous physical activities, Stiles had asked the doctor if that included sex, not that he would be having any, he just wanted to know, but good news, it didn’t. 

He wasn’t allowed to drive; mostly because of the jeep being totally busted. His father had sent it to the shop to get fixed, but it would take a while. Stiles had dreaded about the cost for an entire hour. 

He would need a ride to therapy and classes. That was a major concern of his. When he got out of the hospital he would need someone to give him a ride. He could ask Scott, but Scott had a bike and that was a no-go with his leg. 

Lydia didn’t even go to their school, so asking her would be selfish. 

Asking Jackson was out, just being Stiles didn’t want to deal with Jackson’s degrading remarks or trash talk about the jeep. 

Roscoe was beautiful. 

Stiles was almost sure that Isaac rode with Jackson, so he couldn’t really ask him. 

Stiles had considered Malia, but didn’t know if she even owned a car. Stiles didn’t actually know much about her. She went to his college, seemed relatively childlike in the way she did and didn’t understand things, but was a very obvious, strong ally. She was also a fun drunk, as he recalled from their packnight. 

So his dad. His dad had work though, and asking him to drive Stiles around wasn’t really in Stiles’ interests. Not because he didn’t like his dad driving him around, but because he didn’t want to get in his father’s way or pester him for rides constantly. His dad would offer, of course he would, but Stiles would turn it down unless he didn’t have another option. He couldn’t very well get a ride to a secret werewolf meeting from his father.

Stiles would talk to Scott. See if Scott could borrow someone’s car and drive him. That was Plan A. 

Plan B was Danny. If it came down to it, Stiles was sure he could ask Danny. They had been friends for years, had taught each other a few things, and Stiles had recently played wingman for him. 

Next thing on Stiles’ “After getting out of the hospital To-Do list,” was finding Matt. And finding Matt meant figuring out his connection to the supernatural and to Kira. 

Stiles needed to speak to Kira. He needed to know what she knew about Matt and the Nogitsune. She had moved to Beacon Hills for a reason, and if that reason was the Nogitsune, then Stiles needed to know. The pack needed to know. They needed to do something about it. 

After speaking to Kira again he could figure out the next step using any information she provided. 

Stiles also wanted to go back to the Nemeton. This time he wanted to go during the day. He didn’t want the dark to creep out from his memories and impair his thoughts. He was sure that would happen if he went back to that place at night. He didn’t really know what he would be looking for, but he felt the need to be there again. 

Stiles took a three hours nap to help pass the time, although he didn’t know it had been that long until he woke up. He fell asleep listening to the news channel. 

When he awoke, the television was off and his blanket was pulled up around his shoulders.. Stiles was pretty sure it was either Sean or Melissa who came in and turned the tv off and fixed his blanket, the other nurses would have just left him be. 

Stiles didn’t move from where he was tucked in. He remained with his eyes unfocused on the wall in front of him. He wasn’t thinking about anything in particular, just staring off in a haze. His body ached and protested it’s position. His arm had gone numb underneath him in his sleep but he couldn’t bring himself to shift off of it. Despite the nap, Stiles felt exhausted.

A knock on the door stirred him from his silent absorption. Stiles lifted his upper body partly off the bed in order to twist around to see the door. Sean eased the door open slightly. When he noticed Stiles was in fact awake, he smiled and entered the room. 

“I hear you’re getting out of here today. That’s good news.”

“I know, it’s such a relief. Nothing against you or anything, I’m just not a fan of hospitals or sitting around doing nothing.” 

“No worries. I get it.” Sean fiddled with a small bag in his hands. 

Stiles hadn’t noticed it until now. 

“Your father dropped off some clothes for you so you could change before you left.” Sean said when he found Stiles’ eyes on the bag. Sean passed the bag to Stiles, who had sat up properly in the small moments during their conversation. 

“Thank you.” 

“I was going to head to the cafeteria and grab a bite to eat, do you want to come?” 

Stiles brightened at the prospect of getting out of the hospital room for a bit. 

“Are you going to get in trouble for letting me wander the hospital?”

Sean chuckled.

“You certainly won’t be wandering any where. You would have to use the wheelchair there and back, but at least it gets you out of the room for a bit.”

“Alright. It’s better than nothing.”

“Ever the optimist.” 

“Someone has to be.”

Sean smiled before turning toward the door.

“I’ll go get the chair. You can change now if you want or you don’t have to. Either way, I’ll be back in a couple minutes.”

“Alright. Thank you.” 

Stiles contemplated getting changed versus staying in the awkward hospital gown he was practically living in now. Stiles eventually hobbled his way to the bathroom to change. The pain in his leg spiked and he put most of his weight onto his good leg. He bit his lip in response to the pain. 

The pair of gym shorts that Sean had brought him slid right over his bandaged leg and a black t-shirt. When Stiles exited the bathroom, Sean was already there waiting for him with the wheelchair. Stiles sighed but obediently let Sean help him to the wheelchair. He actually appreciated the help. He felt better, but walking around was still extremely difficult and painful for him.

Stiles let his eyes wander the hospital walls as Sean pushed the wheelchair and talked about random things. Stiles enjoyed listening to him talk. It was a good distraction.

“I told my boyfriend about you.”

“Your devilishly handsome patient who confessed his love for you the minute you walked through the door with water?”

Sean laughed. 

“The patient that had the nightshift nurses in a panic of reporting the Sheriff’s son missing. Also, I had to explain the bruise.”

Stiles cringed. 

“Sorry about that. I didn’t know what was going on.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it, everybody has those moments. It’s part of the job. So what are you thinking about eating?” 

“What are my options?”

Stiles listened to Sean list his options. 

After ordering and retrieving their food, they sat at one of the cafeteria tables. It was late in the afternoon, not quite dinner time, so they had the place almost entirely to themselves. 

“Thank you again.” Stiles said after wiping his face with a napkin. 

“No problem. You ready to head back to your room?”

“Yeah.” 

They walked, well Stiles rolled, back to his hospital room. Sean helped him back onto the bed before leaving Stiles to the misery of silence. Stiles grabbed the remote and turned the tv on. He scanned through the channels, sometimes changing it before he even recognize what was on the screen. He had to go back a few times just to make sure he didn’t skip over something he wanted to actually watch or listen to.

When Scott’s mom entered the room with a wheelchair, Stiles nearly lept out of the bed. 

“Whoa, there. Slow down. You have to be careful with that leg, Stiles.”

“My dad here?” Stiles asked, carefully, and painfully, sliding off the bed and into the wheelchair with Melissa’s help. 

“Yes. I’m gonna take you to him, now. Figured it would keep you from marching out there on your own.” Melissa placed Stiles to-go bag and pillow his father brought from home on his lap and wheeled Stiles into the hallway. 

At the sight of his father, despite having seen him just yesterday, made Stiles want to get out of the wheelchair and hug him. Melissa must have picked up on it, or she had just gotten to know Stiles really well, because she placed a firm hand on his shoulder to keep him down. 

“Hey, kid. How you feeling?” 

Stiles smiled up at his father. He noticed the bag of prescription medication in his father’s hand but chose not to comment on it. Of course his father had fetched and paid for Stiles’ post hospital medication.

“Can we go?” Stiles asked hurriedly. He didn’t want them to change their minds and decide to keep him there for another week; as unlikely as that was, it was a concern of his.

“I just need you to sign a couple forms, Stiles, and then you are out of here.”

“Great.”

Melissa grabbed a clipboard with discharge forms attached and handed then to Stiles. She pointed out where he needed to sign on each page and waited patiently as he scribbled his name. 

“Okay, can we go now?” Stiles asked as he signed the last page. “I have an appointment with my bed at home in fifteen minutes.”

His father chuckled and took over pushing the wheelchair for Melissa. 

“Yeah.” 

Melissa walked them out of the hospital, after fetching some crutches to help Stiles adjust and heal, and waited with Stiles as his father fetched the car. 

“You should tell him.” 

Melissa’s words startled Stiles. He stole a glance in her direction.

“Tell him what?” 

“Come on, Stiles. Werewolves! He should know.”

“It wasn’t important enough for him to know before, you would have told him if it was, so why is it now?”

“Because you’re involved now. He needs to know.”

“I’m not in highschool anymore, I don’t have to tell him everything about my life. He doesn’t need to know right now.” 

Melissa gave him a look. Stiles knew she was probably right. His dad should know, Stiles just wasn’t ready to tell him. 

“I’ll tell him when I’m ready.” 

“Scott said that’s what you would say.” Melissa sighed but conceded.

Stiles couldn’t help but smile. 

“Thank you.” Stiles said, his voice completely sober and sincere. 

“Anytime, kiddo.”

“I will tell him, eventually. I’m just not sure he will believe me.”

“You can always ask for Scott’s help, and if you need me there, I can be.”

“Thank you. I might take you up on that offer.”

Melissa’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly with affection, comforted Stiles. 

His father pulled the car up and got out to help Stiles and Melissa. While Noah Stilinski, still clad in his Sheriff uniform, helped Stiles into the passenger seat of the vehicle, Melissa carefully folded the wheelchair and placed it into the back. The passenger door closed after him and Stiles could hear the muffled sound of Melissa and his father talking. Stiles leaned his forehead against the car window, letting his eyes close as he listened to the muffled discussion. 

Eventually, not more than four minutes later, his father got into the driver’s seat. 

“Ready?”

Stiles turned to face his father.

“Do you even have to ask?”

His father reached his hand over and ruffled Stiles’ hair. Stiles leaned in to the touch. 

They were silent for a good ten minutes, Stiles almost falling asleep, before his father spoke.

“You can’t do that to me again kid. I was so- I was so terrified that I would lose you. I don’t know what I would have done.”

“I’m sorry, dad.” Stiles couldn’t bring himself to raise his voice to anything above a whisper. He knew his father heard him because the older Stilinski’s hand was squeezing Stiles’ shoulder in response. Both lacked the words to describe their thoughts and feelings in that moment. Silence was good enough for them in that moment. 

Stiles let his father push him in the wheelchair up to the front door. Inside the house though, Stiles protested when his father suggested he just sleep on the couch. 

“Dad. I’m fine. Really. A little concussion isn’t going to stop me from walking to my room on my own.”

Sheriff Stilinski huffed. “It was more than a little concussion, Stiles. Kid, you cracked two ribs and messed up a tendon in that leg. You are far from fine. I cannot-”

“Which are all temporary inconveniences. I’m alive, and I’m fine. Dad, I’m fine.” Stiles interrupted. After the moment in the car, Stiles was going to do his best to prove to his father that he was fine.

“Let your old man just do this for you, please.”

“You aren’t that old.” Stiles mumbled but conceded. 

Stiles, using the crutches and the help of his father, made it up to his room in a record time of seven and a half minutes. 

Stiles collapsed onto his bed with a sigh of relief. 

“If you need anything-”

“Thank you, dad.”

“Goodnight, kid. Get some rest.”

When his father left, Stiles curled himself into a ball. 

He didn’t want his father to know how much pain he was in because he would suggest taking more pain medication. He didn’t like the way it made him feel. The illogical part of his brain had also somehow convinced him that if he took the medication to help him sleep, if he had a bad dream the meds wouldn’t let him awaken. He knew it wasn’t reasonable, but he didn’t want to risk anything. It had been over a week since his last nightmare, but the worry was still there. 

Stiles sighed into his pillow. It was good to be back in his own room. He felt safe at home; comfortable and more relaxed than when he was in the hospital bed. Stiles lay on his pillow waiting for sleep to overtake his overactive mind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!   
> Leave comments and let me know how you feel! <3


	23. Two steps back, one step forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles had turned toward Scott, and when he looked back, Derek was already heading back to his camaro. Stiles watched Derek open the passenger door and wait. Scott stepped away from the house, handing Stiles the two bottles of medication, and went for his bike.
> 
> “Wait, you're not riding with us?”
> 
> “I’m not leaving my bike, Stiles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being a day late! This chapter is longer than my regular length (I even had to cut it in half) and required some editing. Big thanks to my beta for editing it for me.  
>  It's a Sterek chapter (sort of)! We are getting there.  
> Please let me know what you think. Comment <3  
> If you have questions I will try to reply and answer them without spoilers!   
> Enjoy!

Stiles spent the first full day home sleeping. His father had taken the day off of work to stay home and make sure he was settled. His father occasionally checked on him, bringing him snacks or meals. Stiles would fall back asleep almost immediately after eating every time he was brought food. 

Sometime around midnight, Stiles woke up with a jolt. There was a tapping at his window. Stiles peeled himself off his bed to get a better look. A familiar figure was crouched by the window, exasperation clear on her face. 

She tapped the window again and raised her eyebrows. Stiles stumbled out of bed and toward the window. He unlocked and peeled the window open as quietly as possible. When the window was open enough for her to crawl through, Stiles stumbled to his bedroom door to close it. 

When Stiles turned back around, Malia was turning herself side-to-side in his computer chair.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Stiles asked as he limped to his bed. 

Malia looked as if she was actually thinking about the time.

“Midnight-ish. Why?”

“You just crawl through people’s windows after midnight?”

“Not usually, no. Why are you looking at me like that?”

Stiles’ mouth had fallen to form a small “o,” and he closed his mouth when she pointed it out. 

“No reason. So…” Stiles dragged out the word, hoping Malia would jump in and tell him why she was there. 

“What?” Malia raised her eyebrows in question, like it was Stiles who had just done something incredible odd. 

“Why are you here?”

“I’m checking on you.”

“At twelve-a-m.” 

“Figured your dad would be asleep by now.”

“And I wouldn’t be?” Stiles rubbed his eyes. “Why didn’t you just come earlier today, you know, knock on the door?” 

Malia glanced at Stiles’ bedroom door, presumably because of his father. 

“Malia, we’re friends. You don’t have to sneak through windows late at night to come check up on me.”

“Are we friends?” Malia asked. 

She didn’t say it with an ill-will or anger. It was a simple question for her, like she really didn’t know how one became friends. 

“Of course.” Stiles said with a quick nod. While he hadn’t spent as much time with Malia as he did with everyone else, he found himself caring about her just as much as he did the others. “I wouldn’t have opened my window if I didn’t think we were.”

Malia nodded as if it made sense to her. 

“Stiles, I’m glad you are okay. We went out looking for you that night.”

“Derek told me.”

“I came here with Scott and Isaac. I have a better sense of smell than they do. At least one good thing came from spending years as a coyote in the woods-”

Stiles didn’t know why Malia suddenly felt the need to explain any of this to him, but he wasn’t going to interrupt her. He wanted to hear what she had to say.

“I didn’t visit you in the hospital. I’m not a fan of hospitals. The smells, chemicals, dying patients, so many emotions swirling around and mixing with other scents, fear. Why are you scared, Stiles?” 

The question was sudden, and unexpected; at least, Stiles wasn’t prepared for it. 

“What?” 

“It’s all over this room. When I was in here that night, I saw the board.”

The board. Stiles had completely forgotten about it. Stiles’ eyes widened and he took stock of his room. The evidence board he had borrowed from his father was pressed against a wall, the only proof it had been used was the little pieces of tape still attached to it. 

Malia followed his line of sight.

“I took a picture of it before I took the pictures off and wiped off the words. Figured you weren’t ready for your dad to know.” 

Relief washed over Stiles. 

Malia got off his chair and went to his closet. Stiles watched her, amazed that she found no problem with rummaging through his things. She came back with a stack of papers and pictures. The pictures were the ones she had pulled off the board. She handed it to him and he gave her a small smile. 

“Thank you.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Why are you afraid? We can protect you, you know. You have a pack of werewolves and a banshee on your side.” Malia said it with such simplicity. 

Stiles frowned in thought. He knew they were on the same side, but something about hearing it outloud solidified things. It wasn’t that Stiles didn’t trust the pack’s ability to protect him; he was sure they could in most situations, but how could someone protect him when they didn’t know what they were protecting him from? No. That wasn’t even why Stiles was scared; it was but not really. 

Stiles was scared because someone had stalked him and kidnapped him, because someone told him he was going to die, because he actually believed he could die. Stiles was terrified because he was worried about the people around him. 

He hesitated before he answered her. How was he supposed to answer? What was he supposed to say? The question may have sounded so simple, but the answer was much more complicated. 

Stiles finally settled on something.  

“Has a banshee ever told you that you were going to die?”

Malia shook her head, suddenly very somber. Her arms crossed over her chest and she seemed to consider Stiles’ question. 

Stiles opened and closed his mouth once before carrying on. 

“I know I should be scared because of that, and I am in some way, I mean, I could die, but it’s not me I’m so scared for. I mean- I am but it’s also my dad. I know I haven’t known you guys long, but it’s all of you. It’s Scott. It’s Lydia. It’s you and the pack.” Stiles paused and considered it. He tilted his head and waved his hands around. “My dad is on the force. He had his deputies and his gun. But while you guys are protecting me, who is protecting you? I’m human, there is only so much I can do.”

Malia was quiet. She surveyed Stiles and then surveyed his room. She fiddled with a few things around his room, picking things up off his desk and glancing at it before putting it back. She put the latest object of her curiousity down before turning back to Stiles, a question obviously resting on the tip of her tongue. 

“Would you take the bite?” Malia asked, her curious eyes watching him. 

Stiles could have pretended to think about the question, but he already knew the answer. It came out so easily. 

“No, I wouldn’t.” Stiles said, bowing his head and rubbing his hands together. 

“Why?” There wasn’t anything but honest curiosity in Malia’s voice. 

Before being exposed to the knowledge of the supernatural, Stiles had never been one of those kids who wished they had superpowers. He didn’t want super strength or speed, he didn’t want to read minds or fly. He wanted to help people with his own power. 

Stiles shrugged. 

“When you were younger, did you ever wish you had superpowers?” He asked instead. 

Malia frowned. 

“I don’t really remember.”

Stiles nodded at the admission.

“I didn’t.” Stiles said. 

Malia didn’t push any further, as if she was starting to understand Stiles’ train of thought. 

“Hey, could you text me that picture you took of the board?” Stiles asked after a few moments of silence. His mind already moving on from childhood stories and fears to figuring out the information he had on his board.

“Sure.” Malia whipped out her phone and tapped on the screen before tucking her phone back in her pocket. 

Stiles’ phone buzzed at the incoming text. 

“Thanks.” 

Malia got up to leave back through the window. She paused, one foot already out. 

“Oh. What do I tell Derek?”

“Huh?” Stiles asked stupidly. 

“He asked how you were doing.”

Stiles felt his chest flutter a bit. Why was she asking what she was supposed to tell Derek? Was she teasing Stiles? No. Malia wouldn’t do that. Malia was actually asking him because that’s what she thought she was supposed to do. 

“I’m fine.” Stiles said dumbly, but Malia looked satisfied enough. 

“Alright. See you around, Stiles.” 

Stiles watched Malia crawl out the window and close it behind herself. He should probably have thought about getting up and locking the window. Instead, Stiles collapsed back on his bed. Stiles stared up at the ceiling until his eyelids closed themselves. 

The second day Stiles was home from the hospital, his father went to work. Stiles nearly had to chase him out the front door. He had promised his father he would call if he needed anything. Stiles couldn’t actually physically chase his father out of the house. He could barely make it down the stairs by himself, even with the aid of crutches. 

His father had helped him down the stairs before he left, and Stiles was now settled on the couch. Being downstairs, alone all day, made it easier for Stiles to make it to the kitchen in case he got hungry. 

Problem was Stiles left his phone upstairs. He had plans to text Scott. He had expected Scott to come see him the first day he got back, Scott didn’t. Hadn’t even texted. So, Stiles was a little bit worried. He should have asked Malia what Scott was up to and why he hadn’t come see him. 

Stiles contemplated going upstairs to get his phone. It seemed so far away though. His crutches were leaning against the back of the couch, within reach, and Stiles stared at them for a long moment. He stared at them before shrugging to himself and reaching for his laptop. He had things he needed to catch up on. The weekend was coming up and then Stiles would be going back to school on campus. He had to be ready. 

Stiles spent a couple hours doing his best to focus on the work in front of him. He was engrossed in writing an essay for one of his classes when a knock on the front door startled him. Stiles glanced between his laptop and the front door before finally sighing. He placed his laptop onto the coffee table. Stiles reached for his crutches just as his visitor knocked again. 

“I’m coming.” Stiles said to the locked door. Stiles made his way to the door, and balanced carefully as he unlocked it and swung it open. Scott’s smiling face greeted him. Stiles couldn’t help but smile in response. Then he remembered the fact that Scott didn’t come see him sooner, didn’t call, and didn’t text. All while Stiles was internally panicking about Matt and the pack. 

“Where the hell have you been, Scotty?”

“Your dad said to give you a day or two to readjust?” Scott said it was like a question. 

“Why would you listen? I’ve been going crazy. You could have just snuck in through the window or something!”

“I’m not going to sneak in through your window, Stiles.”

“Malia did it!”

“I’m not- she snuck in through your window?”

“She did.” 

They stood there silently for a few moments, Stiles leaning on the door and Scott shifting his feet awkwardly. 

“Can I come in?” Scott asked eventually. 

Stiles nodded, releasing the door, and used the crutches to make his way back to the couch. Scott followed behind him, closing the door as he stepped into the house. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to upset your dad. I’m pretty sure he still hates me from that night.”

Scott was talking about the night Stiles had been kidnapped. His father, of course, didn’t know that’s what happened. He only knew that Stiles and Scott had a falling out. 

“He doesn’t hate you.”

Scott looked sceptical but didn’t press the issue. 

“We need to talk.” Stiles said as he sat down on the couch once again. Scott stood awkwardly in the living room looking around. “Dude, sit down. I need to ask a favor.”

“Okay.” Scott sat on the other side of the couch, his body partly turned toward Stiles. 

“I can’t drive. Not with the jeep totally wrecked and not with my leg. I need a ride to classes, to therapy, and werewolf things.”

“I don’t have a car.” Scott said as if Stiles didn’t know.

“I know. I’m asking-”

“If I could borrow someone’s or if I know someone?” Scott interrupted. 

Stiles gave a small nod. 

“If you can’t, it’s fine. I can ask Danny. Just anything werewolf related becomes more complicated.” 

“Yeah, no, I get that. We can figure something out. I could probably ask Lydia, Jackson gives her rides pretty often I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

“What about Isaac?”

“Erica and Boyd share a car. He could ride with them or he could take my bike. Either way, there are more than two vehicles between the pack. We’ll figure it out. We don’t want to accidentally drag Danny into anything.”

Stiles nodded. 

“So-” Scott looked nervous as he started talking. “There is a pack meeting tonight…”

“Okay?” Stiles didn’t know why Scott was telling him. He wasn’t a pack member. 

“We want to talk about that night.”

“What about it?” Stiles tensed. Did they want to talk about how he ended up driving off the road? Matt? What did they want to talk about? 

Scott seemed to pick up on Stiles’ sudden unease. Stiles watched Scott’s normally cheerful demeanor shift.

“I’m sorry I left my phone at the loft. I was-”

“It’s fine. Derek picked up. I just needed to bounce ideas off of somebody.”

“Yeah, but if I had my phone on me I would have just driven to your place or-”

Stiles interrupted Scott. 

“Or I would have done the same exact thing. Bounced ideas and then headed over to the loft. What happened, happened. It’s not your fault.” Of course Scott would feel somewhat guilty about the whole thing. 

“Derek explained a little bit of it- what the two of you guys talked about. Malia told us about the board you mapped out and showed us the picture, but honestly some of it didn’t make sense to us. We figured it would be good to hear all the information gathered from the source though. So, will you come tonight?”

“You want me to come to the pack meeting?”

“Yeah.”

“I- What does Derek think? He is the Alpha after all.”

“He suggested it.” 

“Sourwolf suggesting the lowly human show up to a pack meeting?” Stiles couldn’t stop the words from falling past his lips.

“He doesn’t think you are a lowly human, Stiles. He acts like an asshole- okay, he is an asshole, but he isn’t stupid. He knows how useful and resourceful you are.” 

Stiles couldn’t help but think back to Derek’s words. The warning and suggestion to walk away. 

“Stiles?”

Stiles turned his attention to Scott, who had a worried expression on his face.

“Yeah? I’m fine. Who’s driving?”

Scott seemed to just now realize the importance of their earlier conversation. 

“Ah.” 

“Yeah. Oh, and Scott?”

“Yeah?”

“We need to talk to Kira again.”

“Wh- okay. When?” Scott was going to ask Stiles why, then thought second of it. Maybe it was Scott showing Stiles that he trusted his judgment. 

“Before the pack meeting preferably.”

Scott checked the time on his phone. 

“I’ll give her a call and see if she can meet us now.” 

Stiles nodded as Scott stood and wandered toward the kitchen, bringing the phone to his ear. 

“Hey, Kira. It’s Scott. - Right, yeah, sorry.- No, no. I was hoping we could talk about- Stiles? What do we need to talk about?” Scott called out to him. 

“The night at the game.” Stiles replied.

“The night at the game.” Scott repeated. 

Scott continued to talk to Kira for a few more minutes. Stiles zoned out, staring at the wall as he waited for Scott to finish the call. He didn’t want to pry, especially since he had seen the way Scott looked at Kira when the two of them were together. 

“She agreed to meet up with us at the clearing we took her last time.”

“Great. So how do we get there.”

Scott opened and closed his mouth a couple of times.

“You aren’t leaving me here. I am the one with the questions.” Stiles said just incase Scott was thinking about it.

“I know. I’m thinking. Lydia is at work-”

“She still works at the ice skating rink?”

“Yeah. Turns out she kind of likes it. She is teaching a skating class there now.” 

Stiles smiled at the thought. He remembered when they had skated together around the rink, Lydia had been so graceful on the ice. The thought of skating reminded Stiles of the fact that he couldn’t skate with his leg in it’s current condition. Now that he thought about it, he had stopped going skating when he become involved in the chaotic supernatural world. 

“Jackson’s-”

“An asshole.” 

“Busy… I mean we could ask…” Scott didn’t finish his sentence. 

“Ask who?” Stiles pushed.

“Derek.” 

“You seem hesitant.”

“Are you okay if I ask him?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I- the night at the club and then the night of the accident. I don’t know. I just heard your heart rate spike. I know your first meeting with the pack started off rough-”

Stiles chucked a pillow at Scott. It hit his target in the chest, startling Scott. Stiles could feel himself blushing slightly. 

“What was that for?”

“Stop listening to my heart rate!”

“It’s not on purpose!” 

Stiles chucked another pillow at him. This time Scott was ready and able to dodge out of the way. 

“It’s fine. Asking Derek, I mean.” Stiles sighed and sagged against the couch. He listened as Scott dialed a number in his phone. It rang twice before someone answered. 

He did his best to try and zone out the conversation. Alright, so maybe he didn’t try very hard. 

“Hey, Derek. I’m with Stiles right now.- You can ask him yourself. We scheduled to meet up with Kira but- Yeah. Okay. Thanks.” Scott hung up and made his way back to the couch. 

“He’ll be here in twenty minutes.”

“Okay.” Stiles glanced down at himself and cursed. He was a mess who hadn’t even bothered with deodorant that morning. “Can you help me upstairs? I gotta change.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure.” Scott was on his feet immediately, hand out for Stiles to grab. Stiles took his hand and Scott pulled him carefully off the couch. Stiles grabbed his crutches, placing one under his arm and handing the other to Scott. Stiles leaned heavily on the crutch to the stairs and relied on Scott to go up the stairs. It took them three minutes to reach Stiles’ room, he kept stopping and adjusting the crutch. Finally in his room, Stiles stumbled to his closet and went through his clothes. He stripped, Scott could turn away or whatever he wanted, Stiles had changed in front of Scott before. They were on the same lacrosse team after all. 

When Stiles turned around, Scott wasn’t even in the room. Stiles raised and dropped his hands against his legs. 

“Scott, buddy? I can’t get down the stairs without you.”

“I’m here. Here.” Scott said, tossing Stiles’ deodorant at him as he reentered the room. 

Stiles caught it, hopping a bit on one foot to avoid injuring himself. 

“Do I stink?” Stiles was grateful for Scott thinking ahead, however, he felt a little insulted. 

“No- that’s not what- I wasn’t trying to insinuate something-”

“Scotty, I was joking. Thank you. I was gonna go get it after I got dressed.” Stiles said as he put on the deoderant. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Help me back downstairs?” Stiles grabbed his phone and wallet off his desk, glancing at any texts he missed. A text from his father and two texts from Scott. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Scott made his way over to Stiles.

Stiles quickly checked in from his father before welcoming Scott’s support.

Scott helped Stiles back down the stairs. At the bottom of the steps, Scott handed Stiles the second crutch, the other one already tucked under his arm. Stiles was making his way to the couch when Scott stopped him. 

“Derek is here.” 

“It’s been like fifteen minutes.” Stiles couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice. 

Scott just shrugged. 

“Alrighty then. Let’s go talk to Kira.” 

Scott opened the door and Stiles hobbled out. Just as Scott went to close the door, Stiles remembered something.

“Shit, Scotty. Can you do me a favor?”

Scott stopped closing the door and scrunched his eyebrows in question. 

“Adderall and pain meds. Upstairs on my desk.”

“Yeah. I’ll be right back.”

“Lock the front door on your way out.” Stiles said as Scott went back inside. Stiles took his time going down the stairs. He didn’t realize that Derek had gotten out of his car and made his way over to Stiles until Stiles made it to the ground. Derek had been watching him as he progressed. Stiles caught a glimpse of concern on Derek’s face before the older man’s face shifted to that of a statue. 

“Hi.” Stiles said dumbly. 

“Hey.”

“Alright, Stiles. I got it- are we good?” Scott closed the front door, assumably after locking it on the inside. 

Stiles had turned toward Scott, and when he looked back, Derek was already heading back to his camaro. Stiles watched Derek open the passenger door and wait. Scott stepped away from the house, handing Stiles the two bottles of medication, and went for his bike.

“Wait, you're not riding with us?” 

“I’m not leaving my bike, Stiles.”

Stiles resisted the urge to roll his eyes and protest. He was pretty sure Derek didn’t like him. He thought progress had been made the night of the accident, but the hospital visit had crushed any sort of thoughts of progress Stiles had had. Derek didn’t want Stiles anywhere near the pack but he wouldn’t just admit it. He wanted Stiles to walk away so his pack wouldn’t be upset at him. This was Stiles’ theory anyway. 

Instead, he hurried his way toward the camaro. He didn’t want to make Derek wait, he didn’t want to ride in the car with an irritated Sourwolf. Derek took Stiles crutches from him, tucking them safely away in the car. He watched as Stiles got into the car, a hand carefully resting close by in case his help was required. Stiles noticed. Derek may have been trying to be sneaky about it, but Stiles noticed. 

When Stiles was seated inside, Derek closed the car door and made his way over to the driver’s side. He got in and the engine purred to life at the turn of a key. Stiles used the term “purred” for a reason. It wasn’t the same rumble of perfection that was Roscoe, but the sound appealed to Stiles. 

“Nice car.” Stiles commented, running his fingers along the dash and seat. It was a nice interior. 

“Thanks.” 

Stiles watched Scott pull away from the curb. Derek followed Scott, leaving a good distance between the two vehicles. Stiles popped open the pill bottles, and swallowed the pills dry. He hated the feeling it left in his throat but he forgot to ask Scott to grab a water bottle from the fridge. 

“Stiles, about that night-”

When Derek didn’t finish what he was saying, Stiles made sure the medicine was down, and then said something.

“Which one?” 

Stiles screwed the lids shut and shoved the bottled uncomfortably into his pants pocket.

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“I don’t. There was the night I was kidnapped, the night at the club, the night in the woods, the night in the hospital-”

“Nevermind.”

“Oh come on-”

“All of them, I guess.” 

“Okay.” When Derek didn’t add anything, Stiles continued. “You are going to have to be more specific than that,” 

Derek let out a groan and sigh. Stiles thought it sounded more like a growl but didn’t comment on it. 

“I’m not a mind reader.” Stiles said instead. 

“I know.”

“Good.”

More silence. 

“Look, Derek-”

“I wanted to talk about the night at the club, I did. I just-”

Stiles snapped his mouth shut, afraid that if he said anything that Derek would revert back to silence. 

“It was so easy that night, to act like everything was fine and that the world was a good place. You were so-”

Stiles bit the inside of his cheek. So many thoughts were going through his head. He could think of at least twenty words to describe himself. Annoying. Spastic. Loud. Obnoxious. 

“When I first met you, I thought we were going to have a problem. I thought you were going to get one of them killed.”

Stiles knew he was referring to the pack.

“Then when you helped with the bestiary, and then Barrow, and the packnight. I watched you interacting with everyone and it made me want to experience it. I don’t know how to talk about these things. I don’t usually confront things with words.”

Stiles was blushing. His heart rate was erratic. He knew this. They both knew this. Stiles was suddenly very aware of how intimate the situation was. No way Scott could hear them over the roar of his bike’s engine and the wind. It was just them, in an enclosed space, discussing things neither of them knew how to talk about. However, Stiles thought Derek was doing a great job. 

Derek glanced in Stiles’ direction, his eyes flicking around as he studied Stiles. 

“So, what you’re saying is-” Stiles left it hanging, pushing Derek to continue using his words. Stiles liked the way it sounded. 

“I wanted to talk to you more.” Derek growled at Stiles for making him say the words. “Having you around isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

Stiles let out a laugh, his heart rate still erratic. It was a compliment. 

“Thanks, I guess.”

Derek shrugged in response. 

“I had fun that night at the club. I meant what I said in that hospital room, you surprise me.” 

For once, Stiles was at a loss for words. Derek had complimented him, multiple times, and hadn’t threatened him once. What exactly was Derek trying to say? Did he want Stiles to stick around? Did he want them to hang out sometime? Did Derek do things like hang out with people? Was Derek asking Stiles-

Derek was attractive. Stiles had thought, on multiple occasions, that may have been the only thing besides the werewolf enhancements that Derek had going for him. This was a whole other side to Derek. The fluffy, caring inside to the Sourwolf exterior. Derek was attractive, physically built, glowing eyes (and Stiles didn’t mean that in the werewolf way), and actually cared about people important to him, like his pack. 

What did Derek see in Stiles- if he actually saw anything and this wasn’t Stiles overthinking things or putting things where they weren’t actually- besides that he was surprising? Why were they talking about this again? 

Stiles had given Derek an out. Derek had been scottfree, no need to talk about the awkward flirting.  

“Stiles, say something.”

“Sorry- I’m just at a loss for words. You complimented me, a mere mortal human, without being threatened or because you lost of a bet. Did you lose a bet?”

“You can shut up now.”

“No, no! You told me to say something. I’m just confused. I thought you didn’t like me, like at all.”

“You thought I didn’t like you?”

“You give off a ‘I hate everything but my pack’ vibe.” Stiles shrugged. “You also told me to walk away from the pack.” 

“I did that for your safety.”

“I think I’m pretty safe with you guys.”

“How can you say-”

“You saved my life.” Stiles interrupted. When Derek didn’t say anything, Stiles continued. “Thank you for that.”

Derek’s hands tightened on his steering wheel. 

“If you want to talk about it-”

“I don’t. I mean, not yet. Hopefully your offer still stands?”

“It does.” 

“Good. Thanks.”

They were both silent. Stiles didn’t know how to bring the packnight back up. He wanted to know if Derek had been flirting. They had flirted, right? Stiles had been so nervous that night that he had just walked away, claimed to have to return to his wingman duties. He did have to, but it didn’t need to be at that exact moment. 

“Are you a good dancer?” 

Stiles could see that his question had startled Derek. Derek had given Stiles a quick glance of confusion.

“What?”

“A good dancer. Are you a good dancer?”

“I’m alright.”

“Sarcastic? Smart?” These were the things Derek had classified as Stiles’ type that night. Stiles watched as Derek’s lips turned upward slightly. Only a hint of a smile before his face turned stern once again and they were pulling off the road. 

Stiles glanced out of the window. He hadn’t realized they were so close. The camaro came to a stop just a few seconds after Scott’s motorcycle. Kira was leaning on a car a few meters away. 

Stiles pushed any thoughts of flirting with Derek out of his mind. He had to speak to Kira, he needed to stay focused. 

As it turns out, staying focused is a very hard thing to do when the focus of your attention opens the car door for you and lets you lean on him for support as he retrieved your crutches from the car. Stiles kept his weight off his foot and held onto Derek’s forearm while he grabbed the crutches. Derek handed Stiles his crutches, closed the passenger door and followed him toward Kira. 

Stiles was careful where he placed the crutches for fear of slipping on a rock or uneven ground. Stiles glanced over his shoulder once. Derek’s eyes had met his. Stiles knew Derek was watching to make sure he didn’t fall, but he also did his best to make it seem like he wasn’t. Stiles appreciated it. 

When Stiles came to a stop, Kira across from him and Scott standing in between Kira and Stiles to the left, Derek came to a stop behind him. Stiles was pretty sure Derek was scowling with his arms crossed over his chest. One glance over his shoulder confirmed it. Stiles had to wipe his face with a hand to keep from smiling.

“Stiles… Are you okay? I mean, Scott had told me, but- Are you okay?” Kira’s soft voice was laced in concern. 

At this point Stiles was sure that everyone in Beacon Hills knew that the Sheriff’s son had been in the hospital for two weeks because of a car accident. Kira knew because of Scott, but Stiles was still pretty sure everyone knew. 

“I’m fine. Wouldn’t be out of the hospital if I wasn’t. Scott told you we had some more questions.”

“Yeah…” 

Kira’s expression was that of someone who didn’t want to admit something. 

“You were at the game, Kira. When we found the bomb on the bus. Matt had a picture of you.” 

“I was. There, I mean. I was there.” She nodded to herself.

“Care to explain?” Derek growled from behind him. 

Stiles rolled his eyes and waved a hand up and down to shush him. 

“Kira,” Stiles said in a much softer voice in comparison to Derek’s, “Why did you move to Beacon Hills?”

Kira bit her lip and shuffled her foot against the ground. 

“You know about the Nemeton?” 

Stiles nodded. She was directing her words to him, as if the two werewolves were not there. 

“Then you know it’s a beacon for the supernatural. It… attracts things.” 

“Things like a Nogitsune?” 

Kira nodded, a little bit surprised at Stiles had uttered it’s name. 

“Are you a nogitsune, Kira?”

“No.” kira shook her head almost violently. “I’m a Kitsune. A Thunder Kitsune. I told you this before. A Nogitsune is evil. We moved to Beacon Hills to find it and kill it.”

“Why? Why would you move all the way out here to- is it your fault it’s here?”

“No, not technically. I don’t- okay. Just listen. Kitsunes tend to live long lives. My mother is over nine-hundred years old. In nineteen-forty-three, during W-W-two, my mother summoned the Nogitsune. She had hoped it would possess her and help her exact revenge on the soldiers of the internment camp.” Kira took a deep breath before continuing. “It possessed someone else. It killed dozens of people before it was stopped. Someone from here helped my mother stop the Nogitsune back then. It was gone, dealt with, until it wasn’t. We came to find out how and why the Nogitsune was released and deal with it before it hurts anyone else.” 

“Who helped get rid of it?”

“A werewolf.” Kira glanced up at Derek. “Satomi.” 

Stiles heard movement behind him and glanced over his shoulder to look at Derek. Derek had visibly tensed and seemed to be in deep thought. He caught Stiles’ eyes and nodded his head down once. Stiles took that as approval to keep talking as well as an “I’m okay.” Stiles inclined his head in response before turning back to Kira. 

“Did you find her?”

“No.” Kira shook her head. “That’s why I don’t mind telling you this. You guys saved my life with Barrow. I was at that game because of Satomi. I didn’t know Barrow was an issue before the night I was kidnapped. I swear.” Kira glanced over at Scott as if to reassure him she hadn’t lied about anything the first time they questioned her. She turned back to Stiles. “I was following leads on the Nogitsune and Satomi. We had heard a member of her pack was on the opposing lacrosse team. Suddenly the cops showed up and there was nothing I could do.”

Kira looked at Stiles, a pleading look in her eyes. She had more to say but was… nervous? No. Worried? Stiles couldn’t place it. However, when she seemed to decide not to say anything more, Stiles jumped in.

“You want us to help you find Satomi?” 

“Yes. Help me stop the Nogitsune. I know it may not seem like it’s your problem-”

“Whoa, hold up. We’ll help.”

“You will?”

“We will?” Scott asked quietly despite the fact that everyone in the clearing could hear him.

“Stiles. Can I have a second, please?”

Stiles raised his eyebrows in surprise as he turned towards Derek.

“Now.” There was the growl Stiles was expecting. 

Stiles hobbled over to Derek. 

“You are volunteering us to help?”

“Dude, it involves Matt. It has to. Look,” Stiles sighed. “Lydia screamed. She heard my name. Why? I think it had to do with the Nemeton. What if Lydia could sense the moment that the Nogitsune resurfaced. What if she could sense Matt’s involvement and my involvement with Matt?” 

“Your involvement?” 

“Yeah, being friends with him and- jeez, Derek. Just because I like guys doesn’t mean I’m sleeping around with my friends-”

Stiles took pleasure in Derek’s pained and uncomfortable expression.

“Stop. No. I didn’t mean that.”

When Derek caught sight of Stiles’ smile, he scowled. 

“Aw, don’t be such a Sourwolf.”

“Shutup.”

“I was in the middle of explaining something though.” 

“Fine.”

“The big tree of involvement, ready?” When Derek didn’t respond, Stiles carried on. “The whole thing affected Lydia, this is just a theory, because of the connection between Banshee and Nemeton as well as her connection to Isaac. Isaac, Scott, and Jackson were connected to me through lacrosse. I wish I had my board and a marker for this.” 

“You can save the big explanation for later.”

“But you asked.”

“I take it back. It can wait. Give me the short version.” 

“You know Satomi. Don’t deny it.” Stiles said when Derek went to open his mouth and say something. “I saw your reaction to her name. Barrow had to get his info from somewhere, Matt. And Matt had to get his from somewhere. Nogitsune feed off pain. Matt was a living breathing source of it. We help Kira find Satomi, Kira helps us find Matt. Problems solved.”

“Alright.” 

“Good.” 

Stiles turned on his crutches and hopped back over to where Scott and Kira stood awkwardly. 

“We’ll help you. Derek is the Alpha of the Beacon Hills pack, as you could probably guess after that night with the whole Barrow incident, and knows Satomi.” Stiles rambled. “He has agreed to help.” 

Alpha of Beacon Hills was a very commanding title, one Stiles enjoyed using. An Alpha was supposed to claim and protect his territory. They weren’t supposed to let anything happen to it. In a way he was forcing Derek to take responsibility for the situation, and in another he was reminding Kira that Beacon Hills had an Alpha and she needed to show respect. 

Stiles had read up on pack dynamics in wolf packs and the lore of werewolf packs. Territory was important and if you were intruding in an Alpha’s territory you had to show them some respect or risk getting gutted. The bestiary had provided him with some very useful information on pack dynamics and politics, at least what he had translated did. 

Stiles could imagine Derek trying to prevent himself from growling at Stiles. Stiles glanced at the faces of the people around him. Kira looked relieved and grateful. Derek wore a blank expression. Scott- Scott was looking at Stiles with awe and surprise. Stiles frowned at the unfamiliar expression.

“Stop that.” Stiles said to Scott.

“Stop what?” Scott asked, confused.

“The thing with your face.”

“That’s just my face.” 

Stiles opened his mouth and scrunched his forehead in exasperation. 

He forgot about Kira who cleared her throat before speaking, drawing Stiles’ attention away from Scott and over to her. 

“So what’s the plan?” Kira asked timidly. 

“Right. Okay. We need to figure out what happened to the Nemeton that made it release the bad thing. Kira, if you can find anything out, anything from your mother, anything about how we can find the Nogitsune, that would be great. We’ll find Satomi.”

“We’re working together, right? When you find her, you’ll let me know?” 

Stiles knew the feeling Kira was dreading. The feeling of being left out of something very important, something that you were involved in.

“Yeah.” 

“Okay. Thanks.” 

“Kira, I do have another question though.” 

“What is it?” 

“Matt…”

Kira was silent for a moment, she glanced at Scott and Derek before turning her attention back to Stiles. When she spoke, she sounded apologetic. 

“After you showed me his picture, maybe by coincidence, he became one of my leads. The Nogitsune feeds off of pain and misery, he was practically seething with it. I’m sorry. I didn’t know at the time, when you asked about him, I honestly didn’t know who he was. I should have contacted you guys when I started looking into him. I just- I didn’t know if I could trust any of you.” 

Stiles nodded. 

“Have you seen him recently?” 

Kira shook her head. 

“I lost track of him a couple weeks ago.” 

Right about the time of the accident.

“Alright. Thanks.” He mumbled.

Stiles didn’t really notice until a few moments later, but he had fallen silent, having zoned out on his thoughts. He didn’t notice Scott distracting Kira and leading her toward her car. He didn’t notice Derek step closer. 

“Stiles?”

“Mmm?” Stiles lifted his gaze from the ground and found Derek’s face.

“What are you thinking?” 

“Nothing.”

Derek raised an eyebrow but Stiles shook his head before jerking it in the direction of the camaro, a silent message of “not right now.” 

Derek nodded and looked over to Scott and Kira. Stiles followed his gaze. Kira and Scott were both smiling nervously, not because of discomfort, but the kind of nervous you got around a crush. 

Stiles stole a glance in Derek’s direction. Stiles hadn’t been expecting Derek to catch him looking as he studied Derek’s face. Their eyes met and Stiles gave Derek a small smile, suddenly very aware of how close they were standing and of how beautiful Derek’s eyes were. It was kind of color you complimented on strangers you bump into on campus or in shops, the kind of color that didn’t go unnoticed. 

Stiles coughed and tightened his grip on the crutches. 

“Scott likes her.” He said to clear the air and just to say something. The silence was going to kill him. 

“I know.” Came Derek’s small, quiet response. 

“Is that a problem?” Stiles asked. He couldn’t imagine Derek dictating who the pack go to date. Especially with the knowledge that Isaac was totally dating a member of a notorious hunter bloodline. 

“I don’t know.” 

Stiles bobbed his head to the right in acknowledgement of the reasonable answer. 

“She wasn’t lying. She is also trying to help us. We have a common goal.” Stiles offered.

“I know.” Derek bit out the words, a small growl rolling with the words. 

“It’s harmless.”

“Until it isn’t.”

“A Kitsune could prove useful to have around-”

“Do you ever stop talking?”

“No.” Stile paused before he turned to Derek. “Wanna know why?”

“You’re going to tell me anyway.”

Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Because I’m actually pretty smart despite what people think, and-” Stiles gave Derek a small smile. “I’m very much alive.”

Stiles was thinking about his mother when he said those words. He thought about the officers that his father worked with on the force that didn’t make it home. It was a flash of memory, he couldn’t see their faces but he thought of them, knew their names. Stiles shook his head and pushed the thoughts aside. 

Stiles wasn’t saying that was the only reason he talked so much; but he didn’t talk just for his benefit. He talked to work through his thoughts, to help people understand concepts, and because why waste an opportunity to talk by sitting in awkward silences and fearing saying the wrong thing. 

Not all silences were bad, but not all of them were good.

With that, Stiles turned himself around and eased his way back to the sleek black vehicle. Derek followed him. Stiles knew this because he could hear Derek’s sigh of irritation and maybe, Stiles liked to imagine, maybe a bit of respect. Derek opened the passenger and helped Stiles and his crutches into the car. 

With Stiles tucked safely away in the passenger seat, Derek closed the door. Stiles could hear him say something to Scott, but he couldn’t make out the words. Scott replied, sparing a glance in Stiles’ direction before smiling and turning back to Kira. Stiles watched the interaction curiously. Derek rounded the vehicle and entered the driver’s side. 

“Got anywhere to be?” 

Stiles scrunched his face in confusion. 

“No?” 

“Are you asking me?”

“No.” 

“So…” Derek raised his eyebrows in annoyance.

“No, nowhere to be. Not much I can do in my current state.”

Derek nodded. 

“Time for a detour then.” 

“What? Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

“I hate surprises.”

“Me too.”

“You haven’t told me where we are going.”

Derek didn’t reply. Instead he reversed the vehicle and followed the dirt path back to the main road. 

“Derek?”

“Just trust me.”

Stiles sighed and leaned against the window. It was odd. Stiles wanted to trust Derek, and in most ways he did. Stiles had interacted enough with Derek to know the older man hid behind his dark, rough looking exterior for a reason, but deep down was caring. At least, Stiles hoped he was reading the other man right. For all he knew, Derek could be an asshole through-and-through who was just pretending to be nice for Lydia and Scott’s sakes. Or to trick Stiles into trusting him. 

Stiles didn’t think that was the case though.

The fact that Derek was slowly showing Stiles pieces of him, the small smiles, the jokes, the agreeing with Stiles’ crazy ideas because they may work, left Stiles feeling like he was getting somewhere. 

Stiles didn’t know what he wanted from Derek. Of course, he found the werewolf attractive. Who could resist those devilish features? Stiles had checked Derek out, he would admit that. His heart had clenched with something more than just lust when the older man came to his aid at the bar. 

The night of the accident, Stiles had never been more thankful to see Derek. Surely, if it had been Scott, Stiles would have been just as happy, but it wasn’t the same. Derek pulling him from the jeep was different from Scott doing it, and Stiles couldn’t figure out exactly why. 

He didn’t really know Derek, but here Stiles was, in Derek’s car, trusting him. Derek was a mystery, and while that was attractive, it wasn’t necessarily why Stiles found him attractive. It wasn’t the fact that it was a challenge to get to know the Alpha werewolf either. 

Stiles hated that about some relationships; when people sought after someone because they were a challenge. It made an uncomfortable feeling travel down his spine. No, that wasn’t why he found Derek so appealing. 

He wanted to get to know this man. Even if only to be friends, Stiles wanted to help the pack, he wanted to help Derek. As far as Stiles could tell, Derek was a good Alpha despite the fact that he seemed hesitant about his role.  

“What are you thinking about?” Derek stirred Stiles from his thoughts. 

“Did you know the japanese word for wolf means great god?” Stiles didn’t wait for Derek to respond, he assumed the older man didn’t. “Wolves and foxes also don’t get along very well. Mostly because they are just both naturally aggressive predators in the wild. It’s interesting how Kira seems to have so much control over her fox spirit.” 

Derek raised an eyebrow and Stiles went on to explain. 

“Young Kitsunes struggle with controlling the fox spirit. An orange glow, or aura shows up around its host in photos. Kira’s didn’t in the photo Matt took.” Stiles straightened higher in his seat and angled himself more toward Derek. “The Kitsune is an entity associated with good but they don’t like being locked away or being forced to do something they don’t want to. A fox being forced to interact with a wolf is a recipe for trouble. The fox spirit would lash out, seeking to kill the wolf or even its host. Kira has control of the thousand-something year-old spirit.” 

“We have control of our wolves.” Derek said, as if to defend the honor of his pack. 

“I didn’t say you didn’t, but it’s different. An Alpha can literally force a Beta or Omega to shift or force them to revert back. You guys wolf-out in reaction to pain, emotional stimuli, to the full moon. Imagine have the control not to react so instinctively to all that.”

“A wolf relies on their instinct to survive.”

Stiles nodded and shifted back against his seat. 

It can also get them killed, was his thought.


	24. This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Stiles, I can tell when you are lying.”
> 
> “I’m not-”
> 
> “Let me help. I want to help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm a week late. I was so worried about this chapter. I didn't want to write it wrong or rush anything. Please let me know your thoughts!   
> Enjoy! <3  
> I'll try to be on time next week. We will see.

After the talk about control, Derek didn’t make any effort to keep the conversation going, and Stiles was too tired to keep it going by himself. 

Sitting in the car for extended periods of time, meaning anytime longer than twenty or thirty minutes, were starting to bother his leg. Stiles rubbed his fist against his thigh as if it would help decrease the discomfort. 

Derek seemed to pick up on the behavior because he spoke for the first time in a while. 

“We’re almost there.”

Stiles didn’t say anything, he just nodded at the information. He didn’t know if Derek could see him nod his head, but Stiles figured it didn’t really matter. Stiles started going through his thoughts. He had wanted to tell Derek about his nightmares and about the night of the accident but he was worried about the response he would get. The words “walk away” were still haunting his and Derek’s interaction. At least, for Stiles they were. 

What did Stiles even want to say? He wanted to bounce his theory of involvement off of Derek some more. Stiles’ thoughts were cut short when Derek slowed the vehicle down. 

They arrived at the very creepy, very shady entrance to a probably equally creepy, very shady hideout. 

Derek had helped Stile out of the car and into the abandoned concrete entrance without a word. He then helped Stiles down the seemingly endless stairs. The stair eventually opened to a semi-open area.

“And this is your idea of a…” Stiles left it open.

“A safe place to talk.” 

“How do you even know about this place?” 

“We used to live here.” 

“Oh.”

Stiles glanced around the deserted train station. It looked like someone had planned on building it and attaching it to the main station but had abandoned the project halfway through. 

“It’s…” 

“A shit hole. Talk.” Derek crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Stiles expectantly.

“What is it with you and telling me to talk or shut up?”

Derek rubbed the bridge of his nose and Stiles could help the small smile on his lips or raising his eyebrow to challenge Derek. 

“You were thinking about something in the woods. You weren’t going to talk there-”

“So you think I will here?” Stiles glanced around. “What is it with you and abandoned looking places? Is it a fetish or something?” Stiles wasn’t really nagging Derek about his choice of residence. He was stalling more than anything. 

“No one comes here. No one can overhear you. So. Talk.” Derek growled out. 

“Okay, so the theory of-”

“I’m not talking about that, Stiles. Something else is bothering you.” 

Stiles opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, debating himself on what to say.

“It’s not even important.” Stiles decided, looking at the floor and shaking his head.

“Stiles.”

Derek’s tone had Stiles looking up off the floor before the werewolf had even finished saying his name.

“Alright, Sourwolf.” Stiles sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

Derek growled and glared at Stiles. 

“Way to drive the nickname home.” Stiles commented on Derek’s inability not to live up to the nickname, once again, stalling the conversation.

“You’re avoiding it.”

“Of course I am, Derek! It’s not something I want to talk about.” 

“Why? You are obviously in distress and constantly thinking about it. You think better when you talk, so talk. Stop being a fucking child about it and talk.”

“I can’t!”

“Why not?!”

“Because! Because. I think I’m going crazy.” Stiles’ voice fell as the words left his mouth. 

Derek’s expression softened and Stiles sighed. 

Stiles glanced around for a place to sit. He couldn’t support himself, the crutches were pinching his arms, while he talked about this. He would feel more comfortable sitting down. So he found himself a spot to sit. Stiles hobbled over to a cement block and eased himself onto it. 

“Is it about that night?” Derek asked finally, approaching him slowly. 

Stiles nodded. 

“Why do you think you’re going crazy?” Then added, “Stiles” when the younger man didn’t respond right away.

“I- Someone ran me off the road.” Stiles shook his head. “Or someone didn’t and I drove myself over the edge for no reason. But I thought-” 

Derek stepped closer and took a seat next to Stiles. Their thighs were pressed together on the small makeshift seat. 

“I was driving down the road toward the loft.” Stiles started off, he picked at the hem of his shirt as he spoke. “A car came around the corner and I overcorrected. The car hit the jeep and sent it spiralling off the side of the road and into a tree. I dragged myself from the jeep. I heard someone calling my name. It was Matt. He was… upset. He wanted something back. I ran. I ran and the Nemeton was there.” 

Stiles stole a glance in Derek’s direction. The man was watching him with an expressionless face, not giving away any of his thoughts or feelings on the matter. 

“Matt and I fought. Someone else was there- he - it- whatever  _ it _ was, was watching. Matt argued with it and then Matt was halfway across the clearing. He hit the ground and there was a loud crack. I was there- and then I was back in the jeep. You were saying my name. I was so scared, Derek.” Stiles voice shook. He could feel the tears forming by his eyes. He took a deep breath and swallowed tightly.

“In the hospital, I had these terrible, like I didn’t want to sleep, nightmares about the accident. In some of them it happened exactly how I explained it. In others, I was driving down the road and someone was standing in the middle of it. They were just suddenly there and I overcorrected off of the road and into the tree.” Stiles took a breath. 

It hitched slightly when he felt Derek’s hand cover his own, stopping Stiles from fiddling with his shirt. The silent support made him want to cry. He held it back as best he could. Crying wouldn’t do anything to help now. 

Derek was listening patiently as Stiles spoke; he was offering Stiles help. Stiles wasn’t going to chase it away or accidently pressure someone into pitying him. That was the last thing he wanted. 

“In the second one, I was the person who threw Matt across the clearing. I can’t tell which one is real or if any of it actually happened.”

Stiles paused. He could sense there was something Derek wanted to say, but Stiles wasn’t ready to hear it.

“Before you say anything, I considered it just being the trauma of the situation, you know, my brain playing tricks on me. I’m either crazy or I’m not. Derek, If I’m not crazy, I’m pretty sure Matt is dead and I’m the one who killed him. And if I’m crazy, I’m pretty sure I’ll be checking into Eichen House.”

Stiles turned his head toward Derek, studying his expression. Derek’s eyes were soft, not with pity, but with concern. 

“You told me, that night in the hospital, you told me you didn’t think I was crazy. How about now, Derek?” Stiles wasn’t really expecting an answer. How could anyone really answer that question? “You don’t have to answer that.” Stiles added.

“I don’t think you’re crazy, Stiles. I didn’t before, and I still don’t.”

Stiles nodded. It was refreshing, hearing those words again, but he wasn’t sure they actually meant anything. 

At least Stiles had been able to talk about it, because he had spent hours thinking about it. 

Stiles thought back to the clearing, when he had fallen silent and zoned out. He had thought of something during that time. Another theory.

“I do have a new theory. A non not-being-crazy-or-being-crazy theory.” Stiles said, sniffling. He went to wipe his eyes and found Derek’s hand still over his own. His tears could stay there a while longer, Stiles decided. 

“I’m listening.” Derek answered enthusiastically. Well, as enthusiastically as Derek could get. 

“The Nogitsune.”

“What about it?”

“It’s a trickster. It likes to mess with people. I know it’s kind of farfetched, but what if it is messing with me. What if Matt was its target, and with Matt gone, I’m next?”

“We don’t know how this thing picks its-” Derek paused. They both knew what the word was, and obviously neither of them like it very much. “Victims.” Derek reasoned. 

Stiles nodded. This had occurred to him. So Stiles had thought about what he and Matt had in common. He didn’t actually know much about Matt’s homelife. What he did know, was Matt leaned toward the outcast side of the social scale; kind of like Stiles had before he met Scott, but this whole thing had started before they had even met. But was that enough in common to evoke the wrath of an ancient Japanese entity? Maybe not. 

“It’s just a theory.” Stiles said quietly.

“I’m not saying it’s wrong. I just want us to think about it.”

“Us?” Stiles couldn’t stop himself from asking. He didn’t really mean to say the words out loud. 

“Yeah. You’re the one who gave us hell for the concept before. It’s a two-way street, Stiles.” 

“No, I know- I mean… I just wasn’t expecting you to, you know…”

Derek scolwed. 

“I’m not heartless.”

“No! I wasn’t saying that, I just thought-”

“That I hated you. I remember.”

Stiles could feel himself blushing. He and Derek had this discussion on their way to meet up with Kira. Stiles had admitted that he thought Derek hated him. He didn’t think it had bothered Derek enough for the older man to bring it back up.

“I don’t hate you, Stiles. The opposite actually.”

Wait. Derek liked him? Like-like or just like? 

They hardly knew each other, Stiles reasoned. But they had known eachother for a couple months now. After the initial loft incident, Stiles had willingly gone back to the loft willingly. Stiles had conversations with Derek, he joked and laughed with Derek (small fleeting moments that Stiles liked to recall). He had flirted with Derek and Derek had saved his life.

It was probably just like, like friends would, like colleagues or something. Stiles tried to reason again. 

Stiles didn’t know why it bothered him. He liked Derek. He didn’t know what that meant though.  

Derek sighed. 

“I don’t hate humans, Stiles. A few of them, yes, but we all have our problems.”

Stiles nodded in agreement, too scared to say anything. 

“You surprise me.”

Stiles rolled his eyes.

“You keep saying that but I’m not exactly sure if it’s a good thing any more.” 

“So shut up and let me explain.”

“See, what is it with you telling me to talk and then to shut up?” 

Derek opened and closed his mouth trying to formulate a response. It occurred to Stiles that maybe Derek didn’t actually realize he did the “talk” and then “shut up” routine. 

Derek finally seemed to settle on something. 

“You go silent when you shouldn’t. I don’t really mean stop talking when I tell you to shutup- I do - but not really.”

“You make no sense.” Stiles said. An odd feeling snuggled inside his chest cavity. 

“I’m trying, Stiles.” 

“I know- I wasn’t- that wasn’t what I meant. What you are saying makes sense, I’m just confused? I guess?”

“You guess? What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“Stop repeating what I said as a question. I don’t need to hear how stupid I sound twice.”

“You don’t sound stupid.” 

“Oh. Good. Good.” Stiles stared at his injured leg, his mind jumping from their current conversation to the conversation in the car. Stiles couldn’t stop his mouth from opening. He couldn’t stop the words that came out. “You were flirting with me at the bar, right? I’m not just making things up? Because I tend to do that. At least, people tell me I do that. I guess I just don’t really know what it looks or feels like. I mean, I do. I’ve flirted and been in relationships before, but nothing ever serious. Not that I’m saying anything is going on, serious or not-”

“Stiles.”

“I just want to let you know that I am not-”

“Stiles.”

“Yes?”

“I was.”

“What?”

“Flirting with you. I was. At the club.”

Stiles could have sworn Derek was blushing if not for the fact that Derek was an expert of not showing his emotions. Maybe Stiles was getting better at reading Derek’s expressions, maybe Derek was, in fact, blushing. 

“Good. I mean, okay. Cool.” Stiles rubbed his hands against his thighs. He glanced over in Derek’s direction. 

Derek was trying to suppress a smile. 

It made Stiles want to smile. 

What did this mean though? They were flirting? Why were they flirting? Did Derek like him? Stiles was obviously attracted to Derek, who wasn’t? Derek was sculpted like a demigod. If Derek was a demigod what would his power be? Super strength was a given.

Stiles had sidetracked himself. He should be thinking about important things. Like how the room around them seemed to disappear, metaphorically of course. It was just the two of them on the makeshift seat, talking about flirting and- And did this count as flirting? 

Stiles’ thoughts were cut off by the sudden, sharp pain in his leg. His leg jerked, in a spasm-like behavior, sending more pain through his body. Stiles hissed under his breath and pressed his fist to his leg, rubbing it up and down a few millimeters. It didn’t get rid of the pain, but the action made him feel a little better.

“Are you in pain?” Derek asked, concern laced in his words. He had removed his hands when Stiles had hissed in pain. They were now held awkwardly in the air, somewhere between the action of being put down and wanting to reach out and help.

“It’s fine.”

“Did you take your meds?”

“No, of course not. Why in the world would I ever do that?” Stiles said as he rolled his eyes. Stiles couldn’t help that pain only encouraged his sarcastic, irritable side. He produced one of the bottles of medication from his pocket, the shape confirming it to be the pain meds, and shook it in front of Derek’s face. “I took one like two hours ago. I’m maxed out for the next couple of hours.”

“Can I help?” 

“I don’t see how- oh. You have the weird pain drain thingy. It’s not that bad.” Stiles tried. After the night of the accident, finding out that the pain drain hurt the other person, the idea of it made Stiles recoil a bit. What was the point of a magic healing power if it hurt the user?

“Stiles, I can tell when you are lying.”

“I’m not-”

“Let me help. I want to help.”

Stiles mumbled nonsense under his breath, but didn’t protest when Derek slid his hand partially under the collar of his shirt. Derek rested his hand on the side of Stiles’ neck, his fingers running along the nape of his neck. Stiles tensed for a moment before relaxing into the touch, his eyes fluttering shut. He could feel the pain drift away and a nice numb tingle settle in. The pain in his leg wasn’t the only thing that left him. He hadn’t realized that his ribs had been bothering until a light feeling enveloped them.

Stiles opened his eyes after a few moments, relishing in the pain-free feeling. He hadn’t realized he had turned his body toward Derek’s until that moment. Derek had angled himself to a more comfortable position as well. The two men were facing each other, Derek’s knee brushing up against Stiles’. 

Derek was watching Stiles, his eyes flicking in small movements. 

Stiles nibbled on his lip as he contemplated the situation. He wanted to just lean in and kiss Derek. Would that be weird? It probably would be. Right? So he shouldn’t?

Stiles caught the movement of Derek’s eyes as they flicked down to Stiles’ lips. Stiles became very conscious of the action and instead of continuing to bit his lip, he pinched his lips together instead. 

As much as he willed the thought to go away, he really wanted to kiss Derek. Stiles blamed it on hormones and proximity. Wasn’t there a term for this? The mere exposure effect, the increase in liking due to repeated exposure. That was it, right? Stiles liked Derek because of the recent events that forced them closer together. 

Stiles thought about it. He liked Derek. He did. It wasn’t just because of the demigod-like body Derek had. No, it was more than that. Derek was protective of his pack, and he listened to their concerns. If he didn’t, Stiles wouldn’t even be here. What was the worst thing that could happen? Derek decided not to talk to him unless absolutely necessary? But then why would he be flirting with Stiles.

“You think a lot.”

“Huh?” Stiles’ eyes snapped up to Derek’s. 

“You’ve been quiet for three minutes. I think it’s the longest I’ve seen you be quiet.”

“I can be quiet sometimes!”

“I’m sure you can.” Derek said smugly. His face shifted to something more serious but still caring. “What were you thinking about?”

Stiles could feel himself blushing. He could only imagine what his heartbeat sounded like to Derek. He tried to turn away and realized that Derek’s hand was still on the nape of his neck, making everything more bearable. The touch was comforting, and maybe somewhat encouraging.

“Stiles?”

Stiles thought about responding, but saying his thoughts outloud seemed so much harder than just leaning over and kissing the other man. Stiles was an expert at making bad decisions. So what if this was just one more of those? But it did matter. 

“Stiles?”

Derek’s hand moved to under Stiles’ chin, no longer drawing out the pain. Not that Stiles was feeling any right now. 

Derek’s brow scrunched with concern and Stiles couldn’t help himself. He leaned toward Derek, somewhat slowly in anticipation of Derek pulling away, but Derek didn’t. Instead, he returned the gesture, and leaned toward Stiles. 

Stiles could feel his heart crashing against his chest, the tightness threatening to squeeze out his emotions, allowing them to overflow. Stiles closed his eyes instinctively.  

Their lips touched in a feather-like manner, weightless and gentle. The weightlessness transitioned fluidly to a warm pressure. 

Stiles let Derek lead the kiss.

It only lasted a few moments, and even when their lips pulled apart Stiles’ chest still pounded with excitement. Stiles let out a small laugh, unable to contain himself for much longer. He had just kissed Derek Hale, Alpha werewolf of Beacon Hills, and Derek Hale had kissed him back. 

Derek rested his forehead against Stiles’ and it was then that Stiles risked opening his eyes. Derek’s eyes were still shut, his hand still lightly wrapped around the side of Stiles’ neck, and a small smile on his face.

Derek’s smile left Stiles oddly satisfied with himself. The fact that he could get Sourwolf to smile like that made him feel overwhelming pride. 

How was this even his life? 

Didn’t this only happen in movies or television shows, specifically only between heterosexual couples? 

Yet here he was, after their first kiss, smiling like a dork in response to Derek’s small smile. 

What was this?

Stiles’ thoughts took a turn. 

What was this? What did this mean? What were they doing? Was Derek looking for something casual? Was he becoming a sex toy or booty call for a werewolf? 

“Stiles?”

Stiles glanced up to meet Derek’s eyes. Derek and leaned backward and was regarding Stiles with a raised eyebrow.

“What are you thinking about? Your heartbeat-” 

Derek didn’t need to finish his sentence. By now Stiles kind of expected the werewolves to be listening in to everything. 

“Sorry, I don’t mean to invade your privacy by listening to your heartbeat or anything. It’s an old habit.” Derek apologized.

Stiles just smiled.

“I don’t mind.” Because, really, at least right now, in this moment, he really didn’t mind. He had scolded Scott for it, but this felt different. “I’ve got nothing to hide.” 

Derek gave him a flash of a curved lip.

“So what are you thinking about?”

“This.” Stiles answered honestly. Afterall, werewolves were living, breathing lie detectors.

Derek regarded him for a few silent moments. In those moments Stiles was worried he had said something that would make Derek think he didn’t want this- whatever this was- because he did. 

Derek rubbed his thumb against Stiles’ chin before pulling his hand away. Stiles almost flinched at the cold feeling his skin was suddenly exposed to. 

Did Derek think he didn’t like the kiss? 

Derek finally answered, but Stiles secretly cursed him for keeping him waiting so long for an answer.

“You don’t have to define this as anything yet, Stiles.” Derek pursed his lips together in thought before continuing. “Let me take you out to lunch.” Derek’s voice was confident and encouraging.

“Like a date?” Stiles asked surprised.

Derek smiled and nodded.

“Yeah, like a date.”

“With you paying?”

“Yes, Stiles. I will buy your food.”

“I eat a lot.”

“I eat more.”

Stiles smiled and nodded his agreement. Derek did have that werewolf metabolism thing going for him. 

“So?” Derek asked, an eyebrow raised. 

Derek had nice eyebrows, Stiles realized randomly. It was like they had an entire language of their own. Stiles hadn’t realized how much he relied on Derek’s eyebrows to read the older man's expressions until now.

“Yeah. Yeah, lunch sounds good.”

“Good. Let’s go then.”

“Now?”

Derek pulled out his phone to quickly check the time.

“It’s almost two in the afternoon.” He stated, the asked, ”Are you not hungry?”

“I am.”

“Then?”

“I just wasn’t expecting- you know what? Nevermind. I’m hungry. Let’s go. You better not pick a crappy place to eat.”

“What qualifies as crappy?” Derek asked as he reached out, offering Stiles a hand and some help up. 

“Anywhere that doesn’t serve curly fries.”

Derek let out a laugh and Stiles gave him a toothy grin. 

Stiles may not have been able to give whatever-this-was a name, but he was sure he like it. The banter with Derek, the teasing, the flirting, the kissing (although it had only been the one kiss), Stiles liked it all. 

If Stiles leaned a bit more on Derek than he actually needed to as the werewolf helped him up the stairs, neither of them said anything about it.


	25. A Good Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tell me you have an elevator.” Stiles said hopefully.
> 
> “Not one in working condition.” Scott said with an apology clear in his tone.
> 
> Stiles groaned.

Derek picked a decent place to eat; meaning they had curly fries. The drive there had been quiet. Neither of them feeling the need to break the silence that settled after Stiles had thanked Derek for helping him back to the car. 

Stiles hated relying on someone for help, it was in his nature to be the helper not the helped. However, with Derek it wasn’t so bad. Maybe because Derek didn’t say anything about it, it made it easier for Stiles to accept his help. Derek didn’t make any faces, any noises, didn’t sigh, or look overly concerned. Derek somehow made accepting help seem so simple. He didn’t make Stiles feel like a burden. 

His father didn’t intentionally make Stiles feel like a burden. But Stiles hated that the help he needed interfered with his father’s work and day-to-day schedule. Asking Scott for help wasn’t so bad, but Scott subconsciously gave looks that made Stiles self conscious about his injury and situation. 

The silence in the car wasn’t an uncomfortable one. It had actually been one of the few times Stiles hadn’t felt the need to break long period of silence. He was neither bored or uncomfortable. 

Stiles however, couldn’t help but think about the kiss they had shared. It had left Stiles craving for the feeling again. The way their lips had touched, the gentle press, and the way his heart pounded with excitement. 

Stiles wanted to kiss Derek again. He wanted to remember more than just the shadow of the feeling. How would he go about it though? They had shared one, small kiss, and now Derek was taking him out to eat. On a date. 

Could he kiss him again after the date? 

Was it weird to kiss after the first date?

Stiles bit his lip in thought. 

Movement in the corner of his eye broke Stiles from his thoughts. Derek had clenched the steering wheel. Stiles raised an eyebrow in question, but Derek didn’t look at him. So Stiles didn’t say anything about it. Whatever Derek was thinking about Stiles wasn't going to try to pry it out of him. He didn’t want to risk ruining a good day. 

The pulled up to the family diner and Stiles smiled at Derek’s choice. This place definitely had curly fries. Stiles couldn’t help but smile as Derek parked the vehicle.

“Good choice?” Derek asked, clearly looking to see if Stiles was pleased. 

Stiles gave him a small nod. 

“I’m surprised you even knew this place existed.”

“I grew up here, Stiles.”

“Ah. Right.”

Derek helped Stiles out of the car and held the diner door open for him. Stiles eased himself down at a booth and Derek sat across from him. 

A waitress, probably a high school junior or senior or college freshman working part-time, approached them with two menus. Stiles recognised the look on her face immediately. She was looking at Derek as he ordered his drink, water- predictable- with eyes that scanned his body. Stiles watched her curiously. 

Had Stiles made that same face before? 

He probably had, although he was usually very careful with his facial expressions in certain situations. Meaning he liked to check people out without being considered creepy and because it could become a future problem. Someone notices him checking someone out, they bring it up and one of three things happen. One, they tell him to go introduce himself. Two, they walk up and tell that person that Stiles is interested. Or three, the person notices and becomes uncomfortable. 

Letting someone know he was interested just didn’t seem at all like a logical thing and Stiles wasn’t good at dealing with any of those situations. He wasn’t a player, he didn’t have “a way with the ladies” or whatever. 

Derek though, could be considered a specimen of perfect proportions and god-like features. Derek appeared to be the type of guy who played sports in highschool and who could walk into a room and walked out with an attractive woman on his arm. The menacing look would only aid in his “badboy” persona that people found attractive. 

Stiles certainly found it attractive. Unlike many people though, Stiles wouldn’t walk into a relationship with anyone just because he thought they were attractive. 

The waitress turned toward Stiles, her eyes still flicking toward Derek twice, and asked him what he would like to drink. Stiles had to give it to the girl, she wasn’t bad at hiding the fact that she had been checking Derek out, after all, Derek didn’t seem to have noticed. Stiles, however, was the king of reading people. Stiles ordered a chocolate milkshake without missing a beat and gave the girl a small smile as she walked away. Stiles turned back to look at the menu. 

“What’s wrong?” Derek asked suddenly after the girl walked away.

Stiles looked up from the menu somewhat startled. 

“What? Nothing’s wrong.” 

Derek gave Stiles a “I don’t fucking believe you” look and leaning back against the booth cushion, crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Honestly, nothing is wrong.” Stiles bit his lip. “It’s just interesting.” 

Derek leaned forward, his arms resting on the menu in front of him.

“What is?” 

Stiles pursed his lips and shook his head, but answered anyway. 

“Just that I bet you could probably walk into any building and walk out- you know- not alone.”

“What?” Derek made a face. A face that told Stiles he was probably spouting nonsense. 

“She was checking you out.” 

“She’s a kid.”

“That is not the point, Derek.”

“I’m so confused, Stiles.”

“Alright.” Stiles leaned back against the booth and pretended to look at the menu. He already knew what he was going to order. He just didn’t want to make a fool of himself or ruin the moment.”

“Stiles.”

When Stiles didn’t respond, Derek remained persistent. 

“Stilinski.”

Stiles put the menu down and raised two unimpressed eyebrows at him. 

“I am not interested in anyone other than the person at this table with me.”

Stiles could feel himself blushing. He hadn’t meant to come off as jealous, he was just stating a fact. 

“I’m not jealous.” Stiles mumbled. 

“Didn’t say you were.” Derek seemed to be struggling not to smile. He leaned back against the booth, one arm on the top.  

“I’m serious.” Stiles said, straightening. 

Derek nodded his head once and tapped his ear before speaking. 

“I know.” 

Stiles settled back more comfortable. He didn’t know why he felt like he had to convince Derek he was telling the truth. Derek could literally hear the truth in Stiles’ heartbeat. 

After a moment of silence, Derek spoke. 

“You know, after everything you have been through, after everything being involved with the pack has dragged you into, I didn’t think this would even happen. I didn’t think you would even be interested in anything involving me.”

Derek’s words actually surprised Stiles. 

Derek was talking in a hushed tone, probably worried someone might overhear the wrong thing. Derek waited for Stiles to respond. 

“Derek, I trust you. I trust the pack. Sure I would rather have not had to deal with Barrow or almost dying, but shit happens. It’s not always what you want or how you expect, but sometimes good things happen too,”

“My Beta kidnapped you-”

“And five of your other Betas befriended and protected me.”

Derek grunted in response. 

Before Stiles could say anything else, the waitress reappeared. She delivered their drinks and asked if they were ready to order. 

“Stiles?” Derek asked. 

Stiles nodded and relayed his order. The waitress jotted it down and turned back toward Derek, Derek, without removing his eyes from Stiles, told the waitress what he wanted. Stiles watched Derek with curiosity. Derek was purposefully not taking his eyes off Stiles. Stiles glanced between Derek and the waitress, a small smile on his face. 

The waitress took their orders and Stiles thanked her, as Derek showed no signs of wanting to say anything at the moment. 

“I’ll be back in a few minutes with your order.” She walked away from the table. 

Stiles’ eyes followed her, catching a glimpse of her looking back at them before heading toward the kitchen. 

“You don’t have to continue getting involved, we can protect you from a distance, Stiles.”

“That’s not necessary.” Stiles sighed. He could understand Derek’s worry for his safety, after all, Stiles was limping around on crutches and almost completely reliant on other people. However, Stiles didn’t want the fact that he was human to count against him. He could handle himself if it came down to it. He didn’t need anyone to protect him, especially when he was sure that the reason they wanted to protect him was no longer valid. 

Derek waited silently for him to continue. 

“I’m pretty sure Lydia’s dream already happened.” Stiles paused to see Derek’s reaction. The older man blinked once but other than that remained relatively stoic. “That night of the accident. I had a panic attack and someone approached me; just like Lydia talked about. I’m not sticking around for protection, Derek. I am helping because I want to. I’m not going to let my friends charge into danger without my help.” 

Derek gave him an approving smile and a small head nod. 

“So you’re coming to the meeting tonight?” Derek asked. 

“The pack meeting? Yeah.”

“Need a ride?” 

Stiles rolled his eyes but Derek was smiling. 

“I won’t turn down a chance to ride in that camarro. Those seats are like heaven for my butt.” 

“I knew the reason you didn’t protest riding alone with me was for the car and not for my charming company.” 

Stiles chuckled. 

Their food arrived shortly after. Stiles and Derek made some small talk before the food arrived, and fell into a comfortable silence as they ate. Stiles managed to snag a couple of untouched onion rings from Derek’s plate. The older man had glared at him once but said nothing as the action reoccurred. In exchange for the onion rings, Stiles offered Derek some of his chilli-cheese fries. 

Derek made a face and Stiles fake-gasped at the rejection of his offer. 

“How can you turn down such a beautiful masterpiece?” Stiles asked as he shoved a fork full into his mouth. 

“That’s like a heart attack waiting to happen.” Derek said as he forked some side-salad into his mouth. 

“Can werewolves even get heart attacks? Your metabolism should-”

“Not the point.” 

Stiles shrugged and continued to eat. He made sure not to let any food fall from his mouth. Eating in front of people had never bothered him, yet he still felt the need to not drip on himself as he took another bit of his juicy cheeseburger. 

Stiles looked up randomly as he took a bite of his burger and found Derek’s eyes on him. Derek wasn’t scowling, no, he was observing Stiles with a seemingly neutral expression. Derek was always so careful not to show his expressions. Stiles noticed. 

Reflecting back, Stiles had noticed each and every one of Derek’s facial expressions when he was around and how they had changed. In the months he had known Derek, their relationship had started off as tense and slowly changed to something more companionable. Derek had done nothing but scowl and glare at Stiles during the first few weeks. Overtime, every time he was at the loft working through something or some idea with Scott or Lydia, Stiles had seen the subtle changes, how the scowl turned into something more of the curious nature, sometimes glinting with respect. Now, Stiles couldn’t read this expression. 

“What?” Stiles asked, his mouth half full with fries.

“What kind of name is Stiles?”

Stiles paused chewing for a second then put down his burger, finished chewing the fries he had stuffed into his mouth, and wiped his mouth with a napkin. 

“That’s what you are thinking about?” Stiles asked somewhat exasperated.

Derek just shrugged. It wasn’t even a full shrug. Just a little up-and-down movement with his one shoulder. 

Stiles sighed. 

“It’s a nickname. I get it from my grandfather on my father’s side. Most people can’t pronounce my actual name. It’s very polish.” 

“What is it?” Derek asked, his face saying that he didn’t believe Stiles.

Stiles gave him a small smile. 

“One day, Derek, one day I will write down my name and show it to you. Today is not that day.” 

Derek didn’t push the matter, instead he rewarded Stiles with an amused smile. 

“Alright.”

Stiles suppressed a smile of his own and instead picked his burger back up and took a bite. One day he might share his given name with Derek. 

The rest of the time spent at the diner was filled with small talk, simple questions relating to hobbies and things outside of the pack. Stiles was honestly a little surprised to find that Derek actually enjoyed reading. Stiles also learned Derek was bilingual, having picked up spanish when he was younger. 

Each new thing he learned about Derek, along with each little thing he shared about himself made Stiles relax more and more. It wasn’t that he was tense or uncomfortable around Derek, it was just that actually getting to know him a little better made him feel more like he could be himself around the other man. Stiles was even able to get Derek’s straight-face facade to falter on multiple occasions. When Derek smiled or laughed, even just a chuckle, Stiles bristled with satisfaction. 

After lunch, Derek drove the two of them to his loft; Stiles sitting completely satisfied and plump in the passenger seat. 

Keeping to his word, Derek had paid for the entire meal without even batting an eye. Stiles would have offered to pay for his meal, but the look Derek shot him was enough to have Stiles hold in the offer. 

Stiles closed his eyes and leaned against the door, his head against the window, and dozed. He didn’t mean to, but he was still recovering from the accident. His body grew tired much faster than before and the pain medication only acted as a catalyst of his exhaustion. 

A thought struck Stiles and he lifted his head off of the glass and turned to Derek.

“Derek?”

Derek grunted in response. It wasn’t an angry grunt, just a grunt of acknowledgement. Stiles had thought Derek’s lack of verbal communication would be an issue for him, but it wasn’t.

“Scott said you were the one who wanted me at the pack meeting tonight.” Stiles paused. 

Derek had mentioned the pack meeting during lunch, asking if Stiles would be coming and if he needed a ride. Stiles hadn’t thought about it until now, when he remembered what Scott had told him earlier that day.

Derek didn’t react at all. His eyes remained on the road ahead of him. 

“Derek, why? You have told me, on multiple occasions, to back away from the pack. So why encourage something that would do the opposite? Why?”

Derek glanced over in Stiles direction before focussing back on the road. 

Stiles’ eyes never left the other man.

“I don’t know.” Derek said after another moment.

“Well that makes perfect sense.” Stiles said as he rolled his eyes. 

“I- okay, let me finish before you say anything. Okay?” 

Stiles nodded. 

“You are useful. You figure things out that we don’t see or can’t make connections to. You strive to better yourself, you’re teaching yourself Latin for crying out loud. You broke the law; and your dad is the Sheriff. You are an asset to the pack. Now before you jump in and try to say something-” Derek shot Stiles a look.

Stiles snapped his mouth shut. He had a million and one thoughts traveling through his head in that moment, he wanted to tell Derek off for using him, but didn’t say anything. He had agreed to wait until Derek finished.

“It’s not just because you are useful. You bring something out in each member of my pack. In Scott, in Lydia, in Malia, Erica and Boyd, Isaac, even in Jackson. You make me want to be a better Alpha. I like having you around.” Derek admitted. 

Stiles’ eyes widened in surprise. He had not expected that kind of confession. 

“Okay. You can talk now.” Derek said when Stiles remained quiet. 

“I would kiss you right now if it weren’t for the fact you were driving.” Stiles’ mouth moved faster than his brain did. After the words came spilling out, Stiles found himself blushing. “I cannot believe I just said that.” Stiles covered his face with his hands and groaned. 

Derek chuckled at Stiles’ discomfort. 

Stiles heard some shifting and peaked out from between his fingers. Derek had his hand on the center console of the car, his palm face up and welcoming. 

“Can you settle for some hand holding for now?” Derek asked, an eyebrow raised.

Damn those eyebrows. 

“Are you making fun of me?” Stiles asked pouting. 

Derek shook his head and wiggled his fingers in a welcoming manner, calling Stiles’ hand to his own. Stiles conceded and lowered his hands from his face. His hand was a little bit smaller than Derek’s, but their hands fit together comfortably. 

Stiles’ heart beat rapidly in his chest. This was- it was nice. He enjoyed the physical contact. He pretended not to notice when Derek spent a few moments doing the pain-drain wolfy-power on him. Stiles still wasn’t really sure how he felt about that supernatural power. It felt nice, the pain being taken away, but knowing that the other person was experiencing the same pain in exchange made it hurt almost as bad as the pain itself.

Derek drove with one hand on the steering wheel, and the other wrapped around Stiles’. Only when they pulled into the parking lot of the pack’s building did Stiles release Derek’s hand. Derek unbuckled but made no move to leave the car when he noticed Stiles didn’t unbuckle right away. 

“You okay?”

“How far can werewolves hear?” Stiles asked, turning towards Derek and ignoring the other man’s initial question.

Derek looked from the building back to Stiles. 

“If I were in the loft, or any of the apartments really, I’d be able to hear the car pull up. If I was concentrating really hard, I would be able to hear if there were a conversation in the car. Scott might be able to do the same, but everyone else hasn’t mastered it. Most they could hear is the car pulling up.”

Stiles nodded his understanding. 

“And can you hear all the way up to the loft?” Stiles asked.

Stiles watched Derek’s head tilt and eyes narrow slightly in concentration. 

“Isaac is on the couch playing a videogame or something. No one else is there.” Derek said finally.  

Stiles nodded.

“Stiles, what-”

Stiles didn’t wait for Derek to finish before asking his next question. 

“And what about scent?”

Stiles watched Derek’s expression shift from confusion, to understanding, to something with a more mischievous glint. Stiles bit his lip, hoping Derek caught on to what he was asking about. The faster the older man caught up, the better. 

Derek left out a happy sigh and shook his head compassionately. At least, Stiles hoped that was what it was. 

Derek lifted his hand and rested it on Stiles’ neck, his thumb brushing lightly over Stiles’ lips. 

Stiles saw Derek’s small smile a moment before their lips met and Stiles closed his eyes. He leaned into the touch, hand reaching out for something to grab onto. His hand found the front of Derek’s shirt and dragged him forward a bit, deepening the kiss. 

They pulled away after a few moments, forehead resting against one another. Stiles panted a bit as he tried to recover his composure. Stiles had enjoyed their first, feather-light kiss, but this had been something else entirely. 

Stiles let out a chuckle of disbelief. How was this even happening? 

“What?” Derek asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

Stiles answered in another kiss. Derek hadn’t been expecting that in response, but went with it with no protests.When they pulled away once more, Derek glanced in the direction they had pulled into the parking lot from. 

“Scott will be here in a minute.” 

Stiles nodded and released his grip on Derek’s shirt. He went to unbuckle himself only to realize that during their first kiss in the car he had released himself from the protective restraint. Stiles moved to open his door when Derek stopped him. 

“Wait.” Derek instructed. 

Stiles rolled his eyes and popped the door open. Derek gave him a small glare and exited the vehicle. Stiles swung his leg carefully out of the vehicle and waited for Derek to reach his side and help him. He didn’t necessarily need the help, but he certainly wasn’t going to turn it away now. 

Derek was helping Stiles stand just as Scott pulled up on his motorcycle. 

Stiles caught sight of the wrinkles in Derek’s shirt when he had gripped the olderman and felt his face flush. While Scott got off his bike, Stiles quickly ran his hand down over the wrinkles in an attempt to tame them, embarrassment filling his chest. Derek just looked at him with an amused eyebrow. 

“Shut up.” Stiles muttered as he dropped his hand to his side. 

Derek’s lips quirked up in a smirk as he reached past Stiles to retrieve the crushes.  

“Stiles!” Scott greeted cheerfully as he made his way over to the pair. 

“Hey. You have fun with Kira?” Stiles asked with a knowing smile. Stiles watched Scott’s face light up. His friend was blushing at the question. 

“Yeah. She is pretty great.” Scott mumbled happily. 

Derek nudged Stiles with his crutches and Stiles turned to him, taking them gratefully. 

“Thanks.”

Derek grunted in response and closed the car door. 

“I’m taking it as a good sign that you two are getting along and not threatening each other.” Scott said cheerfully. 

Stiles rolled his eyes. 

Scott then turned to Derek, a small nod in greeting before launching into what Stiles thought sounded like a report.

“Lydia and Jackson are on their way back. Boyd and Erica get off in two hours and then they are picking up food and heading this way. Malia and Peter are out on the preserve.”

“Alright, good.” Derek nodded his head in thanks. 

“Are you coming up, Stiles?” Scott asked.

“No, I’m just going to stand out here until the food arrives.” 

Stiles almost felt bad for Scott. The other man wore a dumbfounded look of confusion. 

“You’re being sarcastic right?” 

Stiles rolled his eyes and crutched his way over to the building. Derek and Scott followed closely behind him. Once inside, Stiles looked up at the staircase. 

“Tell me you have an elevator.” Stiles said hopefully. 

“Not one in working condition.” Scott said with an apology clear in his tone. 

Stiles groaned. 

“I can carry you up the steps?” Scott suggested uneasily. 

Stiles shot him a quick glare before starting the trek up the stairs with his crutches. He handed one of his crutches over to Scott, who smiled at his determined friend. Scott walked ahead of Stiles up the steps while Derek walked along beside him. 

Stiles moved slowly, one hand on the rail and the other arm clutching his crutch close. 

“You guys don’t have to wait for me. I’ll get there eventually.” Stiles mumbled. He didn’t actually want to be left alone, dragging himself up the steps, but he felt kind of pathetic slowing them down. 

Derek just shrugged.

“I’ve got nothing better to do.” 

Scott continuously glanced back at Stiles as they made their way to the loft. 

Once inside, Stiles collapsed on the couch, his feet swung over the edge of the couch as to not disturb Isaac. Stiles didn’t really expect Isaac to move from the couch when he flopped down, and the young werewolf didn’t, however Isaac did gently shift Stiles’ legs up onto his lap which had completely surprised Stiles. The elevation of his leg was much more comfortable than dangling it off the couch, but he did not want to chase Isaac away. 

Isaac barely looked up from his video game when the three men had strode into the loft. He barely gave Stiles a glance when he plopped himself down on the couch. 

“Hey, Isaac” Scott greeted as he sat himself on a nearby chair. Isaac nodded a greeting in Scott’s direction and grunted a little, but other than that he remained focused on his game. 

Stiles watched Isaac play his game, zoning in and out on whatever was on the screen. Derek had wondered off somewhere and Stiles was too tired to get up and look for him, so he remained sprawled on the couch. 

Eventually Isaac spoke, shaking Stiles from his reverie.

“How’s the leg?” Isaac asked, glancing from the bandaged appendage to Stiles’ face. 

Stiles wiggled his toes, flinching slightly at the small amount of pain that shot through his leg. 

“Fine. Could be worse.” 

Isaac nodded but didn’t say anything else. 

Moments later a cold hand wrapped around Stiles’ ankle. Stiles lifted his head off the couch and glanced down at his leg. Isaac had passed the controlling off to Scott, and wrapped one of his now-free hands around Stiles’ ankle, presumably doing the pain-drain. 

“What is it with werewolves and taking away people’s pain?” Stiles muttered as he lay his head back down on the couch. He settled comfortably against the cushions, his eyes falling shut on their own accord. Stiles’ body relaxed and he hazily registered his surroundings. He was going to fall asleep. 

“We don’t do this for just anyone.” Isaac muttered as Stiles drifted off to sleep. 

Stiles woke up with a massive headache. He scrunched his eyes and stretched his aching body. He probably shouldn’t have pushed himself so hard today; even going up the first flight of stairs had been way past his limit. But Stiles was stubborn. 

Stiles stretched lazily, accidently dropping something onto the floor and a rush of cold hit him. Stiles peeled his eyes open to find himself no longer on the couch. Stiles shot up from his new location, a bed, causing a sudden shock of pain to travel through his body. The familiar sight of the loft in front of him calmed his nerves. He wiped a hand down his face and wiped the corners of his mouth at the realization that he had some drool plastered to his face. 

Stiles sighed and eased himself carefully out of the bed and toward the kitchen where he heard some rattling. Stiles padded his pockets on the way towards the kitchen, looking for his meds. Stiles limped slowly without the aid of his crutches. He glanced to find those leaning against the couch. 

“Derek?” Stiles asked as he stumbled into the kitchen. 

Derek had been watching him cross the threshold, Stiles was sure of that. 

Derek grunted when Stiles entered the kitchen. 

“Where are my meds?” Stiles finished his thought as he leaned against the island counter for support. 

“Coffee table.” 

Stiles glanced over his shoulder to the living room area and groaned. Before Derek would say anything else or offer any help, Stiles hissed in pain as he trekked across to the couch. Stiles collapsed back on the couch and gathered his meds. He cracked the pain medicine bottle open and dumped a couple pills into his hand. 

Before he could dry-swallow the pills, something tapped his shoulder. Stiles looked up to find Derek offering him a water bottle. 

“Thanks.” Stiles said as he took the water gratefully. 

After swallowing the medicine, Stiles basically choked the pills down, Stiles asked about the elephant, or lack of elephant, in the room.

“Where is everybody?” 

“Downstairs. They will be up in a bit now that you’re awake.” 

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck, feeling bad for having fallen asleep. 

“They didn’t have to leave.” Stiles protested.

“We all agreed it was a good idea to let you sleep. You looked exhausted.”

“I’m trying not to feel insulted.” Stiles joked, but it came out weak. 

“You could have also left me on the couch.”

Stiles watched Derek shrug in response. 

“What time is it?” Stiles asked when he realized that was all he was going to get from Derek. 

“Almost five.” 

“You let me sleep for two hours? Are you crazy?” 

Derek opened and closed his mouth, unsure as how to answer. 

Stiles located his phone, which had also found it’s way onto the coffee table. 

There were two texts from his father, checking up on him. One asking how he was doing and the second one assuming he was sleeping and requesting that Stiles text him when he woke up. 

Stiles shot his father a quick text, letting him know that he was with Scott and a group of friends. His father replied almost immediately telling him to take it easy and that he was working late tonight. Stiles told his father he would be careful and requested that the older man do the same. 

With that out of the way, Stiles leaned back against the couch and sighed. Moments later the loft door slid open and the group piled in. Lydia was lecturing Scott about something, Isaac made a beeline to the couch, Jackson flopped onto the closest chair he could find, and Erica and Boyd hauled a couple bags of food to the kitchen. 

Stiles smiled at the familiarity of the situation. Not in the sense that this had happened before, but in the sense that these were people he cared about and felt comfortable with. He was just noticing for the first time how close he had grown to the people in this room. Despite Malia and Peter being absent, Stiles was sure he would still feel the same if they were present. 

Peter had kidnapped him, and Stiles had been pissed off, very pissed off and standoffish in regard to Peter, but the older man had a personality similar to Stiles’: snarky, no filter, and stubborn. Working with Peter had eased some of the tension between the pair, although Stiles would forever remain cautious around the older werewolf. 

As if summoned by his thoughts, Peter strolled into the loft door, followed closely by Malia. Stiles watched Malia’s expression shift as she caught the smell of the food in the kitchen. While she darted toward the kitchen, Peter strolled over to his favorite spot on the winding steps. 

“Welcome back!” Lydia called out, pausing in her rant at Scott. Stiles still wasn’t sure what it was actually about but he was pretty sure he wanted nothing to do with it. He didn’t want to end up alongside Scott getting lectured. Stiles did however smile fondly at the image. 

A few other voices echoed welcomes to the father-daughter duo that arrived. 

“Hey, hurry up and get your food before Malia eats it all.” Erica called out to the group in the living room. As if just realizing they could eat, the kitchen was suddenly swarmed. Only Peter and Stiles remained seated where they were. 

Stiles watched from afar as the pack piled their dishes. He smiled wickedly as he watched Erica steal something off Scott’s plate every time he added something. When Erica was satisfied with her food and left Scott alone to fill his plate, Isaac swapped his plate with Scott’s when the other werewolf wasn’t looking. Stiles kind of felt bad for Scott, he would have said something if it hadn’t been so damn funny. 

Derek stood off to the side of the kitchen, a plate of food safe at his side, with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face as he watched the pack swarm over the food. He caught Stiles’ eye and raised an eyebrow. 

Stiles interpreted that as: “Are you not hungry?”

Stiles shrugged. He was hungry, not nearly as hungry as the savage werewolves currently in the kitchen, but he didn’t want Derek to feel the need to bring Stiles food. Stiles was perfectly capable of doing it on his own as soon as the kitchen cleared out. 

When everyone was satisfied with their plates of food, Stiles grabbed one of his crutches from off the couch and wandered into the kitchen. Stiles didn’t grab nearly as much food as the others did, but it was still a healthy amount. 

The pack meeting didn’t actually start until everyone had finished eating. They gathered around the kitchen island, Stiles seated on a barstool resting his leg, Lydia perched on one as well, while the rest decided to remain standing. 

Stiles went over what had happened with Kira, explaining their agreement and partnership in dealing with the now much-more-complicated problem. Derek piped in about Satomi and how Scott and himself would approach her. Peter offered his services, enlightening them with the information of knowing the ancient werewolf. It was agreed that Scott, Derek, and Peter would approach Satomi while Malia, and Isaac kept searching for Matt. Stiles was relieved that the search for his friend was on the list of priorities for the pack. Stiles and Lydia, of course, were on research duty. They were in charge of finding any useful information on the Nogitsune and Nemeton. 

“I can speak to Deaton again.” Scott offered. 

“Actually, Scott, I was wondering. Can I meet Deaton? I was hoping to ask him about certain translations and what not.” Stiles asked curiously. 

Scott nodded in agreement. 

“You can come and see him at the end of my shift on Tuesday.” 

Stiles nodded.

“I’ll need a ride.” 

There was a small silence around the counter, a reminder that Stiles was still very human and still injured. He didn’t heal like they did. Not only that, but his jeep was still jacked up and being worked on. He wouldn’t have it for another week, and even then he still wouldn’t be able to drive it. He had to go to physical therapy for a month starting Monday in order to make sure he made a full recovery. 

Lydia volunteered almost immediately. 

“I can give you a ride. I can also take you to your classes in the morning too-”

“Lydia, you have classes as well.” Derek interjected 

Before Lydia could say something else, Derek continued. 

“I can take you in the morning.”

Stiles almost missed Peter’s surprised, almost mischievous, expression as he heard Derek’s words. Almost.

“I feel like I’m in between a custody battle.” Stiles muttered entirely to himself. 

Erica chuckled and bumped her shoulder against his. Stiles cast her a small side glance before turning back to the rest of the pack. 

“How about Derek takes Stiles in the morning until he can drive again, Lydia takes him in the afternoons she isn’t working, Scott can borrow Lydia’s car even and Jackson can drive her to work on those occasions.” 

Stiles gaped at Boyd. It was probably the most he had heard the silent werewolf say in one sitting. 

“Excuse me, but as the person who is currently being talked about like he isn’t here, I would like to let you all know that in the end, it is my decision.” Stiles quipped fondly. 

“Okay, so share your thoughts, Stiles.” Erica urged.

“I just did. I just wanted to say that. I’m partial to the entire thing. I’m good with Boyd’s plan.”

Erica landed a small punch on his arm. 

“Ow!” Stiles rubbed his arm even seconds after the pain was gone in exaggeration. “Don’t punch the injured human.” Stiles complained. 

The pack meeting ended shortly after, fluidly shifting into a packnight. Isaac picked a movie and everyone huddled around the couch and chairs to watch. Stiles, like the couch hog he was, took up half the couch, his legs situated on Isaac’s legs. Even Peter stuck around for the movie, seating himself on the floor with his back against the couch. Derek threatened Stiles that if he didn’t share the couch, Derek would rip out his neck with his teeth. Stiles had laughed and called him a sourwolf before scooting more towards an end of the couch so Derek could fit in between Isaac and Stiles. 

Had Stiles not talked with Derek today, and had he not kissed the gruff-looking man, he may have felt scared by or become more cautious because of Derek’s threats. But Stiles knew that at least in this moment, they were empty threats. 

With the movie over, Stiles figured it was a good a time as any to head home. He wanted to make sure his dad ate something relatively healthy. 

“I can take you home.” Derek volunteered when Stiles voiced his thoughts. 

“Actually, Derek, I was hoping you and I could talk.” Peter’s voice called from where he was once again sat on the spiral stairs. 

“Scott?” Derek asked, after nodding to Peter.

“I can take him.” Scott agreed joyfully. “Lydia?”

Lydia tossed Scott her keys without a word, more interested in whatever Jackson was whispering in her ear. 

Stiles called out goodbye to everyone in the loft and felt overwhelming warmth from the response he got back. It had been a while since Stiles had been so close to people before. It felt nice to know that he was actually wanted among these people. Stiles caught Derek’s eye and small smile just as he and Scott made their way toward the sliding loft door. Just as quick as the smile appeared on Derek’s face, it disappeared. 

Stiles found it easier going down the stairs than up them and made it down the steps in record time. Not really but it was the best Stiles could do. 

Today, Stiles thought, was a good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments! They make me feel more confident with my writing. Sorry for being late, I'll probably just start posting on Fridays from now on.   
> Leave your thoughts! <3


	26. Emissary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You are human, Stiles. And I wasn’t sure, but I’m more sure of it now. You would make a good Emissary.”
> 
> “But you just said you had to be born with the ability to be an Emissary. I’m human. One-hundred percent.” Stiles rushed to defend himself against- well, he wasn’t quite sure what he was defending himself against. Deaton had agreed he was human before Stiles even said anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! I had the chapter ready, I just forgot to post it!   
> I finally got around to replying to some comments, I haven't done that in a while. I enjoyed reading all the comments. Let me know your thoughts! <3

Stiles was back to school Monday. As decided, Derek picked Stiles up a half-hour before his class. He had explained to his father that Derek was a friend he had met through Scott. The older Stilinski had been uncomfortable with the idea and Stiles had spent the weekend assuring him it was fine. Stiles’ father had agreed, but Stiles was sure his father would check to see if Derek had a criminal record.

His father had worked on the Hale fire case, there was no way he hadn’t recognised Derek’s family name, but his father hadn’t said anything about the matter. Maybe his father had forgotten about it. Stiles doubted it though. 

Derek didn’t say much during the ride but Stiles talked continuously. He mostly just complained about his professors and the ridiculous amount of classwork he had missed. He had to make up two tests this week and reorient himself with his classes. 

Stiles sighed when Derek parked in the visitor parking in front of the main building. Stiles wasn’t looking forward to traveling across campus, from one class to the next, on crutches. What really had his mood down was having to go to Lacrosse practice. Despite his injury he had to attend practice and watch the plays and support his teammates. 

Derek retrieved Stiles’ crutches from the back of the camaro from Stiles and passed them over to him. Stiles gave him a small smile in return and adjusted them into position under his arms.

“You have physical therapy today?” Derek asked, leaning against the hood of his car. 

Stiles couldn’t help himself as he admired the specimen that was Derek Hale. The older man didn’t look an inch out of place. 

“Yeah. Right after Lacrosse practice. Lydia said she would be here a couple minutes before it ended.”

Derek nodded before uncrossing his arms and pushing himself off the car.

Stiles followed all of his movements with his eyes. Stiles had never imagined he would be able to admire Derek so openly. The Alpha werewolf didn’t seem to mind Stiles watching him. Stiles had caught him smirking smugly on multiple occasions. 

“I’ll text you.” Stiles says and he peels his eyes away and turns to go.

“Hey, Stiles?” Derek calls from behind him. 

Stiles turned to look at Derek, the man was not standing by the driver’s side, door open.

“Have a good day.” 

The smile of Stiles’ face grows and Stiles can feel himself blushing for no reason. Stiles waited until Derek was peeling out of the parking lot before heading toward his first class. 

Stiles approached each of his professors before class and spoke to them about his absences. He had spoke to them through email and turned in as many assignments as he could complete before today. They were all pretty understanding for the most part, one more annoyed than the others. 

Overall, his day was bland. He got a few stares and concerned comments, other than that is was a pretty normal day. Stiles felt good about it. It was nice to get out of the house and to do normal things. 

When Stiles approached the lacrosse field at the beginning of practice, carefully moving over the uneven ground, Coach Finstock had taken notice of his previously absent student. 

“Stilinski!” 

Stiles stopped walking and met Coach Finstock’s gaze. 

“Where the hell have you been?”

Stiles glanced down at his leg and back up at Finstock.

“Uh, at the hospital-”

“You know what? It doesn’t matter. I don’t care. You know what happens when a well-oiled machine loses a piece? Do you, Stilinski?” 

Before Stiles can answer, Finstock is talking again.

“Chaos! Chaos is what happens, Stilinski. How the hell am I supposed to keep the machine running when one of it’s pieces gets injured and goes missing?”

Stiles opens his mouth but closes it almost immediately after. He doesn’t know how to answer that. He isn’t even sure what Finstock is talking about anymore.

“I’m here now, Coach.” Stiles finally manages. 

“Good. You can sit on the sidelines and watch. I expect you back in top form as soon as possible, Stilinski. We have games to win.” 

Stiles nodded. 

Coach Finstock’s attention shifted from Stiles to a late Greenberg and Stiles relaxed a little. Scott jogged over to Stiles as he settles on the grass. Scott squatted in front of Stiles, his signature goofy smile plastered on his face. 

“He is glad to have you back.” Scott starts. “We got a lot of shit during practice when you weren’t here. He has been especially hard on Greenberg.” 

Stiles managed a small smile. It was nice to be back around his team, but it sucked he couldn’t participate. As the team began running drills, Stiles could feel his body react. He remembered each movement, the muscle it worked, the amount of sweat each action created, he remembered how he had spent years training to reach the level he had been at before the accident. The injury had thrown that all down the drain. He had been too afraid to ask the doctor if there would be permanent side effects of the injury, fearing he wouldn’t be able to play anymore. 

During one of the team breaks, Danny made his way over to Stiles and sat down beside his friend.

“Hey, Danny.” Stiles said with a smile. 

Danny had visited him twice while he was in the hospital. They had mostly sat in silence, Stiles watching over Danny’s shoulder while he worked on his side business. 

“How are you feeling?” Danny asked before he took a drink from his water bottle. 

“Better.” Stiles gave a small shoulder shrug.

“Don’t worry. A month in physical therapy and you will be back on the field like nothing happened.”

“I hope that’s true.” Stiles sighed. 

As Lydia had promised, she arrived a few minutes early. Stiles hadn’t noticed her arrival until she sat down next to him on the field. He was watching as the team finished off a match against each other. Scott had taken half the team while Jackson handled the other half. They had played against each other, keeping the score relatively even. Had it not been for Isaac on Jackson’s team, the werewolf throwing off the balance a little bit, Stiles was sure it would have ended without a winner. 

“How was your day?” Stiles asked, not even looking from the game happening on the field.

“It was a day.” Then she added, “I’ll loan Scott my car when he goes to see Deaton today so he can pick you up. If you don’t want to stick around for Scott to be ready, you can text Derek and ask him to get you. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

Stiles glanced over at Lydia at the mention of Derek. He had just seen Derek that morning, yet the mention of the Alpha’s name made the memory of their shared kisses resurface. Stiles ran his hand down his face, hoping he wasn’t actually visually blushing or anything. 

“I thought Scott wasn’t going to see Deaton until tomorrow?” Stiles asked at the rescheduling. 

“Schedule change. Deaton called him this morning- Scott didn’t tell you?”

Stiles shook his head and Lydia sighed.

“Deaton had an emergency and needs to close early tomorrow so he told Scott to come in today.”

Stiles nodded his understanding. He was sure Scott was planning to tell him after practice and didn’t hold it against his friend. 

“Thank you, Lydia. For keeping me in the loop and everything else.” Stiles said, glancing in her direction and giving her a small smile. 

Lydia shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly, as it it wasn’t a big deal. To Stiles, though, it was. He wasn’t used to having such a good support system from friends. 

“It’s not anything special. You’re-” Lydia cut herself off and seemed to scold herself internally before finishing her sentence. “A good friend.” 

Stiles raised an eyebrow at her self correction but didn’t focus on it too much. He couldn’t imagine what she could have said in exchange for “a good friend” and it wasn’t like it really mattered. 

After a few more minutes, practice ended and Scott came over to help Stiles to his feet. Stiles accepted the help easily, he looked ridiculous trying to stand on his own. 

Jackson came over too, followed by Isaac. Jackson greeted his girlfriend happily, leaning in for a kiss. Lydia made a face, clearly able to smell the stench of sweat, grass, and testosterone. Stiles could certainly smell it, but it didn’t bother him as much as it did Lydia. 

Lydia pushed Jackson away lightly, only encouraging Jackson even more. The werewolf grinned evilly and scooped Lydia off the ground. Lydia let out a squeal of surprise. 

Stiles couldn’t help but chuckle a little. Scott, the good guy that he was, looked a little more panicked by Jackson’s actions. Isaac payed no attention to the pair, instead reaching down to pick Stiles’ crutches off the ground and hand them to him. Stiles accepted them gratefully and settled the uncomfortable walking sticks under his arms. 

Jackson and Lydia were eventually back at their sides, Lydia scowling without any real anger at Jackson, who still had a smile on his face. 

“Are you ready, Stiles?” Lydia huffed.

“Yeah.” Stiles nodded.

“I’ll pick you up at your house around five?” Scott asked, looking more for Stiles acknowledgement than for anything else. Stiles also figured it was to let Stiles know that he had heard Lydia tell him about the schedule change. 

Stiles nodded.

“Yeah. See you guys later.” 

Stiles followed Lydia away from their small group. 

When Danny called his name and asked him to wait up, Stiles turned toward his friend and waited. He cast a glance over to Lydia. Lydia tilted her head and pursed her lips in thought before giving a small nod and turning away towards where she parked her car. 

“Danny.” Stiles said when his team mate jogged up to him, gym bag slung over his shoulder. 

Danny continued to walk so Stiles followed along beside him. 

“I’m glad you’re back, Stiles.” 

“Glad to be back.” 

Danny nodded but was silent. Stiles frowned, it was obvious Danny had something on his mind. 

“Danny? What’s up?”

“Have you heard from Matt?”

The question threw Stiles off guard and he stumbled a bit on the uneven ground. Danny’s hand was on his arm in an instant, giving him any support he may need. Stiles gave him a small smile in thanks and Danny pulled his hand away.

“I haven’t. Last I saw him was before my accident.” Stiles supplied. 

Danny nodded. Stiles waited for him to say something else, and when he didn’t, Stiles pushed. 

“Danny? What’s wrong? I don’t remember you and Matt being close.”

“We weren’t. He just asked me to do something for him a month ago. It took longer than expected and now that it’s done I can’t reach him. I’ve been asking around.”

Stiles looked at Danny in surprise, unsure as how to respond. 

Matt had asked Danny to do something? 

Stiles finally found his words.

“What did Matt ask you to do, Danny?”

“No-nothing. I’m sure Matt will be back soon. I heard he was having trouble at home. Maybe he just had to handle a few things.” 

Stiles nodded but he could tell Danny was worried. It probably had to do with whatever Matt had him do. Whatever it was, Stiles needed to find out. 

“You okay?” Stiles asked, sincerely concerned for his friend.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry. Matt just made it seem like this was really important to him.”

“Danny…”

“I’ll see you around, Stiles. I really am glad your back. Can’t wait to have you back on the field.” Danny gave Stiles his signature smiles and sprinted off toward his car. 

Stiles couldn’t even chase after him. He sighed and made his way over to Lydia who had pulled her car up to the curb for him. Stiles got in by himself and sighed as he landed on the soft passenger seat. 

“What was that about?” Lydia asked as she pulled away from the curb and out of the parking lot. 

“A lead on Matt.” Stiles admitted. 

Lydia cast Stiles an unreadable look. She didn’t push, probably confident Stiles would confide in her on his own. She was right. Stiles liked sharing things with Lydia, almost as much as he shared things with Derek. 

“Matt asked Danny to do something. I don’t know what, but Danny thinks it was important to Matt. If it was important to Matt it may have something to do with all of this.” Stiles gestured around with his hands. 

“But why would Danny talk to you about it?”

“I was- am-” Stiles caught himself. He couldn’t help but think of the sound of Matt smacking against the ground. He was still unsure as to whether or not that was a dream or something completely fucked up. He wished he was going crazy. “Friends with Matt and Danny. Danny asked if I had seen or heard from him.”

Stiles sighed. 

“What would Matt have asked Danny to do? Danny is a techy. He unencrypts things, hacks things, recovers files, makes fake IDs, and what not. What the hell would Matt want with Danny?” Stiles’ brain was reeling. He didn’t wait for Lydia to answer. It was a rhetorical question anyway. He was just working through his thoughts. 

“Matt took photos of everything. He recorded a shit ton of things. Maybe his camera? A memory card getting damaged? What the hell, Matt. What were you thinking?” Stiles mumbled the last part to himself. 

Stiles went to physical therapy. The whole thing lasted for about an hour; the introduction to the whole thing took twenty minutes and they spent the last forty actually easing him into the exercises. Stiles had grown progressively more irritated with himself when he couldn’t do as much as he wanted. His leg ached with each movement and Stiles took several breaks throughout the process. 

Lydia had come in with him and sat beside him as his physical therapist walked him through each exercise. Not once did she touch her phone. She listened along with Stiles as the physical therapist told him everything and then smiled encouragingly at him when he completed a set of exercises. Stiles appreciated the support, although he was somewhat embarrassed by it all. He understood Lydia just wanted to help.

At the end of it all, they decided only two hour-long sessions a week would be necessary, although he would have to continue to so some of the exercises at home on his own. Stiles was more than somewhat thankful that the session came to an end. He limped more on the crutches afterward, but that was expected. He hadn’t even really wanted to get into the car for fear of jostling it the wrong way, but the want to go home overpowered the fear of pain.

“So, what’s the plan?” Lydia asked after she threw her car into park in front of Stiles’ house. 

“What?” Stiles snapped from his thoughts. He had zoned out on the rest of the car ride, finally looking around to find them parked outside his house. 

“What do we do?” She asked again.

“I don’t know yet.” Stiles sighed, leaning back against the chair, and closed his eyes. 

“You’ll think of something.” Lydia assures him. 

“How do you know? I’ve been running around like a chicken with its head cut off. I don’t know what I’m doing, Lyds. I failed as Matt’s friend. Yet here I am, running around trying to figure out where the hell he is. If he is alive, he doesn’t want to be found. Probably even less so if it involves me. It took me forever to figure out Barrow. Now there is a Nogitsune? And Kira is involved? How the hell does so much happen in a small town like Beacon Hills?” Stiles sighed and turned his head to Lydia. 

“You have figured out more than the rest of us have.” Lydia noted, a small smile on her face. “You know, I used to pretend to be clueless about everything. I tried to be just another pretty face without a brain. I was still holding onto a bit of that before you showed up.” 

“I don’t believe you.” Stiles said playfully. 

She cast him a knowing look. 

“Stiles, honestly, I can’t believe we have only known you for one semester, not even. I hate to say it, but I’m glad I dreamt about you.” 

Stiles gave her a small smile. He knew what she meant. He had thought about it. If Lydia had never dreamed about him dying, he wouldn’t be here with her now. He wouldn’t have Scott, Isaac, or Jackson. He definitely wouldn’t have Malia or Derek. 

Derek.

Stiles wouldn’t have kissed Derek. He wouldn’t have even been on the older man’s radar. 

Stiles’ chest clenched at the thought. It hurt. The entire thing. He hadn’t realized it until now, but his life had been pretty miserable before. It was good, but still miserable. He could've have gotten by, just his dad and him, but having what he did with the pack made things better. 

“Yeah, me too.” Stiles finally said. “It sounds really bad but I’m pretty sure I wouldn't know you guys any other way.” 

Lydia pursed her lips. 

“I don’t know about that. Lacrosse.”

Stiles nodded. He would know Scott, Isaac, and Jackson from Lacrosse but he was pretty sure that would be it. Maybe he and Scott would have grown closer as friends. It was a whole lot of “maybes” and Stiles didn’t like the thought. 

Stiles sighed again before pulling himself from Lydia’s car carefully. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Stiles.” 

Stiles waved as Lydia left. When she was gone, having turned down another street, Stiles made his way to his front door. Unlocking it and closing the door behind him as he stepped through the threshold, Stiles collapsed onto the couch. 

He had a couple hours before Scott would show up, probably less time because he and Lydia had sat in the car and talked. His conversation with Lydia had his spirits down. What if he really had not met these people? 

Stiles couldn’t help himself. He pulled his phone from his pocket, grunting a little as he kneed himself in the arm. Stiles opened a new message and scrolled through his contacts, stopping when he found the name he was looking for. 

Stiles’ heart hammered in his chest as he sent the text. A simple “Hi” had him incredibly nervous. 

His phone vibrated a few moments later and Stiles felt a jolt of fear. He didn’t know what he was afraid of. 

**From Sourwolf:** _ Hey _

Stiles gained a little more confidence at the response. Before Stiles could finish typing his random nonsense of words, he received another text. 

**From Sourwolf:** _ How was your day? _

Stiles smiled to himself. Derek was okay with him starting a conversation and that made Stiles unusually happy. 

**To Sourwolf:** _ It was a day. Scott will be by in  an hours or so.  _

Then Stiles added in a second text. 

**To Sourwolf:** _Danny asked about Matt. Apparently Matt asked him to do something. That’s a lead, right? We follow it?_

**To Stiles:** _  Yes. But you would follow it even if I said no. _

Stiles could help but smile. Derek was right. Stiles was going to follow it no matter what, but he still found himself asking anyway. He wasn’t quite sure why, but he felt better asking the Alpha. 

**To Sourwolf:** _ Lydia said something that had me thinking. _

**To Stiles:** _ What? _

Stiles could practically hear Derek groan. 

**To Sourwolf:** _ We never would have met if Lydia hadn’t foreseen my death. I was trying to think about where I would be if it hadn’t happened. _

**To Stiles:** _ To wish it didn’t happen is normal. _

**To Sourwolf:** _ That’s the thing. I’m kind of glad it did happen. Does that make me crazy? _

**To Stiles:** _ Yes. _

Stiles chuckled at his phone, resting the screen against his chest as he stared up at the ceiling. Maybe he was a bit crazy, but somehow it felt okay when it involved this. He was okay with being a little crazy because being around the pack made him a little less crazy. Maybe it didn’t make sense, but Stiles thought it did.

Stiles decided to leave the conversation like that. He didn’t want to push his luck with Derek. He didn’t even know what they really were. Derek had told Stiles he didn’t have to label it right away; that he could take time and figure out what he had wanted. Right now, Stiles just wanted to be in Derek’s life. He wanted to share more kisses and maybe more. Alright, definitely more. 

Derek didn’t send any more texts and Stiles got to work on the rest of the classwork he missed while he was out. Reflecting back on his conversation with Derek, Stiles cursed himself for not asking about how Derek’s day was. Next time, he told himself. Next time.

Stiles found himself a little nervous to meet Scott’s boss, Deaton. Scott had pulled up in Lydia’s car and sent Stiles a text. Stiles left his work splayed out on the coffee table and couch and went to retrieve the bestiary from his room. Stiles shot Scott a quick text letting him know he would be right out, knowing it would take him a minute to go up and down the stairs on crutches. Stiles managed to make it up to his room and back down in under five minutes. Stiles locked the front door behind him as he left and made his way over to the car. 

The drive seemed to take forever, but that could have just been because of Stiles’ nerves. 

Scott had given him a quick summary of Deaton’s involvement with the pack and the supernatural in general; he was a druid emissary before becoming a Veterinarian and Scott’s mentor. Scott was sure to emphasize that he trusts Deaton and that the older man has helped them, meaning the pack, out on several different occasions. 

Stiles didn’t do much more than nod. Scott trusts Deaton, Stiles, however, just wanted information. He hoped the emissary would be able to answer his questions. 

Stiles followed Scott into the clinic through the back door. It was a creepy alleyway that made Stiles shiver in discomfort. Inside the building was a little more welcoming but not by much. The lights in the front waiting area were off, as were all the lights except the ones in the surgical room. Stiles followed Scott there. 

A man in his forties was flipping through an old text that was open on the exam table. He looked up when Stiles and Scott entered into the room and offered them a small smile. 

“Deaton, this is Stiles. Stiles, this is Deaton.” Scott introduced. 

“Stiles. I’ve heard quite a bit about you.” Deaton offered his hand, and Stiles shook it. 

Scott had spoken about him to Deaton? Just how close to Deaton was the pack?”

“You have a lot of questions, I can tell.” Deaton spoke.

“Wouldn’t anybody in my situation?” Stiles asked rhetorically. He meant it rhetorically. 

“Probably.” Deaton offered with an apologetic smile. 

“I was hoping you could answer some of my questions.” Stiles finally offered. 

Deaton nodded before turning from him and toward Scott. 

“Scott, if you wanted to go feed and check up on the animals and then join us?”

Scott nodded and gave Stiles’ shoulder a small squeeze before leaving. 

Stiles was alone with Deaton. He shifted slightly on his crutches. Deaton seemed to notice the uncomfortable movement of Stiles and gave him another small, tight smile. 

“You can come in and have a seat, Stiles. I’m not a werewolf. I don’t bite.” 

Stiles made his way over to the nearest chair and sat down. 

“Scott told me you were a druid emissary?” Stiles phrased it like a question, looking for confirmation. 

“I am no longer an emissary.” Deaton responded in a straightforward manner. 

“Why not? Don’t emissaries act as diplomats for different packs? They help keep the peace? Why stop that to become a vet?” Stiles didn’t mean anything hurtful by what he said. He was honestly curious. 

Lucky for him, the vet gave him another tight smile before leaning against a counter and answering. 

“Something happened to the pack I worked with. Being an emissary can be a very difficult job. I find myself able to do more help as I am now than as I was back then.” There wasn’t anything bitter about his tone, it was just a very matter-of-fact statement. 

Before Stiles could speak, Deaton was talking again. 

“Stiles, I assume Scott and the rest of the pack have told you about the Nemeton. Correct?”

Stiles nodded.

“Let me go back a bit. The creation of werewolves is Greek. Emissaries are Celtic. The Greek Lycans are our Faoladh. Anyway, Emissaries first began working with werewolves after King Lycaon and his sons were turned into wolves by the God Zeus. Druids, who get most of their power from a Nemeton, could not fix the King and his sons, but they could teach them how to shift back to man and back to wolf. We did it in order to keep the balance. Before werewolves, Druids did something similar within their own settlements.” 

Stiles listened carefully, however uncertain the relevance of the older man’s story. 

“I don’t know how much Scott had told you about me or what I used to do, but I want to make sure we are on the same page.” After receiving a nod, Deaton continued. “Druids are not made. It is not like witchcraft, in that witchcraft can be learned. Druids are born and are often perfect for the position of pack Emissary. You don’t have to be a druid to be an Emissary, but one must be born with the qualities necessary in order to pursue the position. I don’t think I explained any of this quite right to Scott.” 

Stiles was still trying to process the words Deaton was saying. Stiles understood the history of Druids, but all the stuff about being born with the qualities of an Emissary were confusing. He wasn’t sure how this all related to him. 

Deaton paused, as if trying to gather his thoughts.

“You are human, Stiles. And I wasn’t sure, but I’m more sure of it now. You would make a good Emissary.”

“But you just said you had to be born with the ability to be an Emissary. I’m human. One-hundred percent.” Stiles rushed to defend himself against- well, he wasn’t quite sure what he was defending himself against. Deaton had agreed he was human before Stiles even said anything.

“I brought up the idea with Scott the first time he told me about you. You have an air of mystery surrounding you, Stiles Stilinski. A Banshee does not just simply dream about a human. Something influenced it.” 

“Why not? Couldn’t there be another explanation? Lydia and Scott had asked me if I had ever interacted with the Nemeton before meeting them. If I had, would I remember it? What if I was just a kid when I first ran into it? Couldn’t that just be the reason why?” 

Deaton pulled a book off of the counter behind him and flipped it open, searching for a very specific page. Stiles watched curiously. 

Deaton finally found the page he was looking for and beckoned Stiles to join him. Stiles grabbed one of his crutches and leaned his way over to the patient table. Deaton laid the book before him. 

Stiles gazed at the pages in amazement. The symbols drawn on the two pages were exquisite. He was sure it was a language, but the writing looked more decorative than anything. 

“I may be wrong, Stiles. That is always a possibility. But what if I am right?”

“I’m still not even sure I understand what you are saying.” Stiles admitted. 

“I told Scott this before, how things or people may become beacons for the supernatural.”

“You think I’m a beacon? That I was born with the emissary gene or whatever it is?” 

“Perhaps.”

“You are very cryptic. You know that right?” 

Deaton gave him a look but didn’t vocalize a response. Stiles spoke before Deaton could explain what was written on the pages of the book on the table before them. 

“But it could be something else, right?” 

Deaton squinted his eyes at Stiles in thought and gave a small nod. 

“What about a Nogitsune?” Stiles asked.

Something in Deaton’s face fell.

“What about a Nogitsune?” 

Stiles noticed a small change in Deaton’s voice and mannerisms.

“Scott didn’t tell you?”

“Tell him what?” Scott said as he reentered the room. 

“Scott, what is this about a Nogitsune?”

“I was waiting for Derek’s approval before I brought it up.” Scott supplied.

Stiles shrunk in on himself a bit. He hadn’t known they were keeping it a secret from Deaton. All Stiles knew was that the pack went to Deaton for help. 

“What do you know of a Nogitsune?” Deaton asked.

Stiles looked over at Scott who was looking back at him intently. Scott expected Stiles to answer. 

Stiles sighed and placed his own Bestiary on the table in front of him, flipping to the page on the Kitsune. He had finished translating the page, all of it was written out on a separate piece of notebook paper that was folded between the pages. There had been a little bit on the dark fox spirit in the Bestiary. He had translated that part too.

He handed the piece of paper over to Deaton but left the Latin writing open on the table.

“I may have messed up a few things in translation, but I can almost completely read the language.”

“You taught yourself Latin?” Deaton asked, surprise and curiosity laced in his voice.  

Stiles nodded in response.

“Scott told me you wanted to keep the original version, I wasn’t sure as to why though.” Deaton wandered over to a cabinet and pulled out a stack of papers. 

Stiles recognized it as the copy of his Bestiary. Deaton flipped to his own page and looked back and forth between Stiles’ copy and his own.

“Almost a perfect translation.” Deaton praised.

Stiles was filled with an odd sense of pride. Having someone know he had taught himself Latin and praise him for his translation made Stiles proud. 

“Is this everything you know?”

“I know it had no problem killing people. I know it’s incredibly old.” Stiles supplied what he had learned directly from Kira. 

“The Nogitsune was trapped in the Nemeton before it was cut down. I would feel much better if you had told me sooner that someone had released it.”

“Have you run into the Nogitsune before?” Scott asked in surprise. 

“If the Nogitsune is truly free, you have a bigger problem on your hands than you thought.”


	27. Lost Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Stiles screwed this up?
> 
> What if it didn’t work out and Stiles couldn’t come over to the loft any more?
> 
> Stiles knew he shouldn't jump ahead of himself. He knew overthinking everything would just stress him out and make things worse.

Stiles tossed Deaton’s words over in his mind. After Deaton’s ominous warning, he had suggested they talk to Chris Argent about the situation. Stiles didn’t have a problem with being directed to someone else who may have been able to answer his questions, but Scott was more hesitant. They agreed to talk to Derek first. Well, Scott had decided to talk to Derek first and Stiles had complained but agreed nonetheless.

Stiles was now laying on the couch, not his couch, Derek’s couch, waiting for the group to return. He had been confined to the building until then. 

Scott had spoken to Derek that night after he dropped Stiles off home, and Derek had agreed to talk to Chris Argent. However, Stiles hadn’t been invited. He had been told that the Argents would give the entire pack hell for getting a human involved. Stiles hadn’t cared, but everyone else seemed to, so he kept his mouth mostly shut. It was Stiles, of course he was going to complain at least a little bit.

Stiles had gathered that there was a sensitive history between the two sides in addition to Scott’s, Isaac’s, and Allison’s small domestic dispute. Although, Scott seemed more at ease with the idea of Isaac and Allison now that he had found and taken an interest in Kira.  

Stiles sighed and tossed his stress ball into the air. He glared at the ball as it came back down. The stress ball was stupid, he decided. Jackson had thought it was a hilarious joke, laughing his ass off as Stiles glared at him. He wouldn’t actually admit it to Jackson, the ball was actually helping him as it gave him something to do with his hands. Jackson had meant it as something good, his tone had emphasized that, but Stiles didn’t like the implication that he needed a stress ball to keep him from falling apart.

When Stiles had walked, limped, stumbled, crutched, his way into the loft that afternoon, Jackson had tossed the thing at him. It had hit him in the chest before bouncing to the floor. 

“Nice catch.” Jackson had called when the ball hit the floor. “It really is a shame you aren’t on the lacrosse field anymore.” 

Stiles had glared and smacked the ball off the floor and toward Jackson with one of his crutches. Jackson ducked underneath the ball, laughing, and returned to a standing position with a smile on his face. Jackson retrieved the ball and brought it to Stiles, raising his hands non-threateningly when Stiles pointed his crutch in warning at Jackson. 

“Seriously though, this is for you. You’ll ruin your shirts if you continue to pick at the threads.” Jackson said, suddenly very serious. 

Stiles had accepted the gift with a small thanks after that. It was a nice gesture, if not a tad bit done in a jackass way.

When Stiles looked up, he finally realized the pack had been watching them interact. Derek stood in the kitchen sporting a drink and a small smile that disappeared behind the cup. Isaac was looking embarrassed about being caught staring, suddening looking at the floor or anything but Stiles. Scott, who had gone in before Stiles, as he was Stiles’ ride there in the first place, seemed somewhat ready to jump in had it progressed to an actual fight but looked rather pleased with how things had turned out. Lydia was curled up in a chair watching them with what Stiles thought was pride. 

Stiles could practically hear Lydia purr out the praise “My boys,” with fondness. 

Malia and Peter were missing, but Stiles had learned that was a common occurrence. The father/daughter duo were often in each other's company, Stiles had learned, because Malia grew up in the equivalent of a foster family and Peter hadn’t known she even existed. Stiles still wasn’t entirely sure what her story was but he could see that Peter was trying to teach her whatever he could.

Stiles tossed the ball back into the air. They had left him behind. Lydia and Jackson on an apparently scheduled date night, it was Friday he could understand their reasoning, and Isaac, Scott, and Derek to go speak to the Argents. 

And Stiles was stuck on the couch. 

It was like getting benched right before a big game. That was going to happen too, Stiles thought sulkily. Their next game of the season was in a couple weeks and he was sidelined until his doctors deemed him fit enough to play. Coach was going to have a field day with that.

Stiles tossed the ball back into the air. It came back down by the demands of gravity and Stiles crushed the therapeutic foam in his hand as he caught it. Stiles tucked his left hand behind his head and continued to toss and catch the ball with his right. He continued this until his phone vibrated, not sure how many minutes had passed.

**From Derek:** _ You better still be in the loft when I get back. _

Stiles could help but smile at Derek’s message. He sent his reply.

**To Derek:** _ Does it count if I leave and come back before you get here? _

Stiles dropped his phone onto his stomach and tossed the ball back in the air. He wasn’t actually going anywhere. The farthest he could go on his own was the block corner before he turned around and had to go back because of his leg. He could still feel the aftereffects of his physical therapy session. 

His phone buzzed and Stiles let the ball hit his pelvis and roll off onto the floor in favor of his phone. 

**From Derek:** _ Stiles. _

Stiles could practically hear Derek say his name with a growl. Stiles didn’t know when he started being able to think things in Derek’s voice. When had he grown so used to the growl and the pitch of Derek’s voice that he could just close his eyes and imagine it? 

**To Derek:** _ Derek. _

Because that was the best Stiles could come up with at the moment that wasn’t at all dirty or overly flirtatious. 

**From Derek:** _ I’ll bring you food. _

Stiles knew Derek knew he wouldn’t have left the loft anyway. The fact that Derek knew this and still played along, pretending to bribe Stiles, made Stiles’ chest constrict with joy.

**To Derek:** _ Throw in some curly fries and you have yourself a deal. _

**From Derek:** _ Will be back in two hours. I’ll talk to you later.  _

Stiles sighed. The brief reprieve from boredom was now over and his ball had rolled itself away from him. Stiles glanced over to locate the ball. It was all the way over by the coffee table. In reality it wasn’t very far, but the fact that Stiles had to get off the couch to get it made it a miserable distance. 

Stiles slid himself onto the floor, too lazy to reach for his crutches, keeping his injured leg as straight as possible. He inched himself over to the ball, retrieved it, and pulled himself back onto the couch. He lay back down and tossed the ball back into the air. He was sure he would get bored of this eventually. Until then he would enjoy the soft thud of the ball against his hand and the satisfaction of flicking his wrist to send the ball up into the air. 

“Stiles?” 

Something stirred Stiles and he looked over in the direction of the doorway to the person who spoke. Derek was standing a few feet away from him, a bag of food in one hand. He looked relieved when Stiles finally looked at him. 

Stiles didn’t say anything, fear and dread already building up inside of him. He was standing over by loft’s grand window. He didn’t know how he got there. He didn’t remember getting off the couch or walking over here without his crutches. He couldn’t actually remember anything from the past two hours. 

“Stiles? You shouldn’t be walking on your leg without crutches.” Derek approached him slowly. 

Almost like Derek thought Stiles was a terrified wild animal that might make a break for it at any moment.

“Yeah. Right. I just-” Stiles didn’t actually know how to finish that sentence. 

The relieved look filled Derek’s face once again after Stiles spoke. 

At the mention of his leg, Stiles could suddenly feel the pain again. It hadn’t been there a moment ago and then suddenly the pain hit him in waved. His knee buckled a little bit but he remained standing, still able to support himself on his other leg. 

Stiles only noticed that Isaac was in the room when he took the bag from Derek’s hand. With the bag out of his grip, Derek approached Stiles more confidently. 

“Do you want to go sit down?” Derek asked, offering Stiles his hand as he approached. 

Stiles nodded, still confused and a little bit out of it. He had lost at least two hours of time and it scared him. 

Derek helped him back over to the couch, basically supporting Stiles’ weight entirely by himself. 

“Thanks.” Stiles mumbled when he was back sitting on the couch. He rubbed his hands down his face. It didn’t do anything but clear the crust from his eyes. Stiles bit down on his bottom lip as he tried to figure out how he had ended up over by the window, standing on his own as if the pain in his leg was gone. The pain had been gone. At least until Derek had mentioned his leg. 

“You still hungry?” Derek asked from where he sat beside Stiles. 

Stiles could hear the worry in his voice. Stiles hated making people worry about him. Stiles groaned, rubbed his face again, waking himself up more, and responded enthusiastically. 

“Starving.” And he was. 

Isaac appeared beside him, passing around the food to their respective consumer before sitting down on Stiles’ other side. Neither man asked Stiles why he was staring out the window, walking on his injured leg, and not responding when they first walked in, and Stiles appreciated it. 

“Where is Scott?” Stiles asked curiously. 

“He went to go meet up with Kira.” Isaac answered after a bite of his burger. 

“And you didn’t want to go have lunch with Allison of something?” Stiles asked. They had gone to see the Argents, he figured Allison had been on that list. 

Stiles watched as Isaac’s cheeks brightened in embarrassment. 

“She was busy.” Is the quick responce.

“I see how it is. I’m everyone's second choice of company.” Stiles complained halfheartedly. 

“You were my first choice.” Derek mumbled.

Stiles felt his heart stutter in his chest. He could feel himself blushing now. Derek had announced that in front of Isaac. 

Stiles glanced at Isaac. The young werewolf seemed unphased by Derek’s words. Isaac continued to munch on his fries and burger. Stiles turned to look back at Derek. Derek raised a questioning eyebrow, but otherwise seemed unbothered by Isaac’s presence. 

Stiles turned back to his food. 

Derek had flirted so easily in front of Isaac and Isaac hadn’t even batted an eye at the comment. Did Derek tell Isaac about them? No. Derek wouldn’t do that. Especially since Stiles wasn’t even sure what they were. 

Stiles wanted to say they were dating, but he didn’t want to label it and then screw things up with Derek. Derek had driven him to campus everyday this week. Stiles had even managed to talk himself into kissing Derek one morning. It hadn’t been awkward at all. Derek had started instigating the kisses after that. Stiles was pretty sure Derek had been waiting until the younger man was comfortable enough to do it. Stiles was, and he often found himself looking forward to their kisses.

What if Stiles screwed this up?

What if it didn’t work out and Stiles couldn’t come over to the loft any more? 

Stiles knew he shouldn't jump ahead of himself. He knew overthinking everything would just stress him out and make things worse. 

Stiles leaned back against the couch, settling in between the two werewolves comfortably. 

“Alright. Now who is getting up to put a movie on?” Stiles asked as he shoved a curly fry into his mouth. 

Both Derek and Stiles turned to Isaac, who, mid-bite, looked like a deer caught in headlights. Isaac eventually sighed and got up. 

Stiles smiled gleefully at Isaac’s choice of movie,  _ The Dark Knight _ , with Heath Ledger.

Stiles was hyper aware of everything on the couch. They had finished their food about fifteen minutes into the movie, Stiles was shifting his leg in discomfort. Having been standing on it earlier with no crutch had set the pain off. He tapped his leg, willing the pain to subside. It didn’t. 

“Do you need to put your leg up?” 

The question started Stiles and he turned to Isaac. Stiles raised his eyebrows in question. 

“I’m fine.” Stiles mumbled, suddenly more conscious of his leg movements.

Isaac sighed but dropped it. 

Minutes later though, Isaac is growling and grabbing Stiles’ leg. Stiles yelped in response, being forcibly shifted around the couch. Isaac swung Stiles’ legs off the floor and onto the couch, resting across Isaac’s lap. This movement, however, shifted his entire upper body to be resting and relying on Derek’s for support. 

At some point Derek had moved his arm to rest on the back of the couch and with Isaac’s positioning of Stiles’ feet, Stiles was left tucked against Derek’s side and tucked under his arm. Derek barely spared the movement a glance before turning back to the movie. He didn’t growl or protest at Stiles’ body pressing against his own. Rather, he leaned into the contact. 

Stiles’ leg almost instantly felt better from just the placement. 

“Thanks.” Stiles mumbled. 

Stiles settled himself against Derek after a few tense moments of contact. They watched the rest of the movie like that; Stiles pressed against Derek’s side and with his feet up on Isaac’s lap. 

Stiles found himself constantly lost in his own thoughts. He didn’t actually know much about Isaac. They were on the same Lacrosse team, but they hardly spoke even when they all hung out together. Stiles liked Isaac. He was more soft spoken than Scott, and like Boyd he seemed to notice everything about his surroundings. Derek seemed unconcerned about flirting with Stiles when Isaac around, like he trusted the Beta not to make a big deal out of it. Stiles cringed at the thought of Jackson or Erica finding out about them- whatever they were. 

They were dating right? This was dating? He had eaten out with Derek, they flirted, they kissed, Derek drove him places, they watched movies together, Stiles had technically slept over at Derek’s place. These were things people in relationships did, right? 

Stiles’ anxiety spiked for a moment. He was sure Derek noticed. The older man had casually dropped his hand off the back of the couch and onto the back of Stiles’ neck, his thumb moving in small comforting circles that made Stiles shiver from the sensation. 

Stiles sighed. He wouldn’t mind calling this dating. It was nice. He felt like a part of something: comforted, wanted, appreciated. 

Too tired to hold his own head up and watch the movie at this angle, Stiles laid his head back against Derek’s chest and sighed at the warmth that enveloped him. He could hear Derek’s heart sputter at the new position. His head rose when Derek took a deep breath, and when Derek settled back into normal breaths, Stiles could hear the more regular rhythmic beat. 

Stiles could feel his own semi-erratic heartbeat in his chest. He wondered how Derek had gotten his heartbeat to calm down. Was it anything like learning how to lie to a lie-detector test? Stiles could do that. He could lie his ass off and still pass.

The movie ended and Stiles realized that he didn’t actually want to move. He didn’t want to get up and leave, although he should. Isaac got up, carefully shifting Stiles’ legs, and gathered the bags, napkins, and wrappers from their meal and wandered toward the kitchen to throw it away. 

“Ready to go home?” Derek asked quietly. Stiles sensed he wanted to end this moment about as much at Stiles wanted to.

Stiles sighed. He knew that leaving the loft meant Derek would bring up the earlier incident. Derek still had to fill him in on the meeting with Chris Argent but Stiles was sure that Derek would hold back the information until he and Stiles talked about the moment Derek walked in to find Stiles standing by the loft window unresponsive to the real world. 

Derek took the sigh as a resigned yes, and eased Stiles forward. Stiles stood on one foot, waiting as Derek passed him his crutches. Maybe he could distract Derek with useless conversation until he got to his house and then make his great escape into the house and up to his room. There was really no point in running away from the conversation, Derek could always text him or call him. 

Stiles gave Isaac a small smile accompanied by a similarly small wave as Derek led him out of the loft and down the stairs. 

“You really need to fix that elevator.” Stiles grumbled. 

“By the time we fix it you will be walking on two feet again.” Derek responded in the same grumbled manner. Although despite his answer, he seemed rather sympathetic to Stiles’ predicament. His hand rested at the base of Stiles’ back while the other held Stiles’ other crutch. They made it down the stairs in record time; Stiles was getting better at walking up and down the stair with crutches as time dragged on. 

They made it down to the parking lot and to Derek’s sleek black camaro with no problems. Stiles settled down in the passenger seat and waited for Derek to round the vehicle and get in the driver’s seat. 

Stiles fiddled with the radio a bit, receiving a small growl from Derek. Stiles shrugged, he thought he might as well try something but it didn’t look like Derek was going to let him weasel his way out of this one. They started the car ride out silent.

Stiles knew the conversation was coming. Derek was tense the minute they stepped outside.

Stiles tightened his grasp around the stress ball, released his grip, and tightened his grip again. He repeated this as Derek drove toward his house. Stiles wasn’t going to be the one who started this conversation. Derek obviously wanted to talk about it, so, Stiles decided, Derek had to be the one to bring it up. 

Stiles was terrified of the conversation and he wasn’t even sure why. Stiles had come up with the most plausible answer when they had exited the loft: he was sleep walking. Stiles hadn’t done it in years, not since a few months after his mom died, but it was the best answer. 

“Stiles. What was that up there?” 

Derek didn’t even need to say anything else about the incident, Stiles knew exactly what Derek meant because he had been dreading talking about it.

“I don’t know. Sleepwalking.” Stiles looked from the windshield to Derek and then back. “Probably.”

“Do you normally sleepwalk?” Derek glanced over in Stiles’ direction. Curiosity and worry blending with the gravel of his natural tone.

Stiles sighed. He could tell Derek was skeptical. It wasn’t like Derek could accuse Stiles of lying. Stiles didn’t know what it was. Sleepwalking was a guess, one of many possible answers. 

“No. I did for a while after my mom died but eventually it stopped. I haven’t done it since then.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Stiles hadn’t been expecting an apology. It wasn’t Derek’s fault any of it happened. 

“I know what it’s like to lose people close to you.” Derek said in a hushed tone. 

Stiles shifted his whole body so it was facing Derek. This was the first time Derek had brought up anything concerning his past. 

Derek glanced over in Stiles’ direction. 

“Your dad is the Sheriff. You know of the fire.” 

It wasn’t a question but Stiles nodded anyway. He knew of the fire. Heard the tragic story, had seen the news reports, and snuck a peek at the police reports. 

“Do you ever go back there?” It was a rather broad question but Stiles was sure Derek understood what he meant. It didn’t even occur to Stiles to stop talking and asking questions. Derek had just opened up and Stiles took advantage of the opportunity to get to understand the tall, brooding werewolf more. 

Derek nodded. 

“It was the first place I went after I came back from New York.”

“Were you there when it happened?” Stiles glanced down at his hands as he spoke. It was a selfish question. 

“No.” 

Stiles could hear the pain and regret in Derek’s voice. 

“I was. When my mom died.” Stiles clarified. “My father was off working and I sat with her by her hospital bed as she died. I watched the life leave her.” Stiles didn’t mean to mention the last part. It just kind of slipped out. He hadn’t even really spoken to his father about it. They had talked about his mother’s passing, but Stiles hadn’t actually said anything about the experience. 

Derek reached over and took Stiles’ hand in his own. Stiles was comforted by the action, a strong hand wrapped around his own. 

The rest of the ride to Stiles’ house was quiet. What else could be said about it? 

It wasn’t until Derek was parked in front of Stiles’ house that Stiles managed to bring up Derek’s meeting with Chris Argent. They were still sitting in Derek’s car, hands held together. Derek’s thumb brushed up and down wherever it could reach on Stiles’ own hand. 

“How did it go with Argent?” 

Now it was Derek’s turn to sigh. 

“Argent has taken it upon himself to help us with the Nogitsune.”

“You say it like that is a bad thing.” 

“It isn’t, not really. I don’t like Chris Argent, but I trust him to help with this.”

Stiles nodded his understanding. 

“Does he know anything about the Nogitsune?” 

Derek shook his head.

“He is going to discreetly talk to some of his contacts.”

“You don’t sound like you like this plan.” 

“I don’t. I found Satomi though. Isaac and I went to speak to her after talking with Argent. That’s why we were late.”

Late? Stiles glanced at the time on the dash of the car. It was already seven-thirty. _The_ _Dark Knight_ was a little over two hours long, which meant that Isaac and Derek had been gone for about three hours. Stiles had lost track of three hours. 

“Stiles?”

“Huh?”

“You okay?”

“Fine.” Lie.

But Derek didn’t say anything about it. 

“How did it go with Satomi?”

“She wasn’t happy. But we will talk about this tomorrow. It might be a good idea just to sleep on it.” 

Stiles shot Derek a small glare. He knew what the older man was doing. He was trying not to out right say Stiles was sleep deprived and needed to stop being worried about everything. Stiles’ expression softened. He liked someone showing concern for him. He was okay with Derek’s odd way of doing it to. 

Stiles sighed but nodded in agreement. One night. He could just forget about everything for one night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! I wanted some pack bonding as well as Sterek development in this chapter. Also moving the plot along a bit. I hope you guys enjoy it! :)
> 
> Leave comments!!


	28. What gets bigger the more you take away?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles hoped Derek’s face would give away something, anything, to let Stiles know what he was thinking. It didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used google translate for the Japanese so I'm sorry if it's wrong or inaccurate.   
> Other notes at the end.

Stiles couldn’t control the shaking. Everything seemed to blur around him. His father was saying something to him but Stiles couldn’t understand a single word. 

How had this happened?

Derek had pulled away after Stiles had entered his house and closed the front door. Stiles had agreed to a night of not worrying about anything. He had promised Derek, in less words, that he would relax and sleep. The problem was that Stiles wasn’t tired. He didn’t want to sleep even if he was. Sleeping just didn’t feel right, it didn’t feel safe. 

Stiles sat at his desk fiddling with the programming on his laptop. The makeshift police scanner in his jeep had been confiscated by his father, Stiles had gotten an earful about it in the hospital, but he had a program for it on his laptop. He could just listen in on his laptop as he could the scanner. He only ever used it when he was anxious and waiting for his dad to get home. He figured now was as good a time as any to listen in and make sure his dad was okay. 

He listened in for about an hour. A few calls for police presence at different locations. Other than that, it was a seemingly quiet night. Stiles shut down his laptop, feeling a little better with the assurance that nothing life-threatening was happening. 

Stiles closed his laptop and hobbled downstairs. He figured his dad would be home soon and wanted to greet him when he walked through the door. He had seen a lot of his father the first couple weeks of his injury. But now that he was back at school, he saw him less. Their schedules didn’t line up and everyday for the past week he hadn’t been able to enjoy dinner with his father as they usually did. 

Stiles sighed as he collapsed on the couch. He hadn’t been tired when he was sat up in his room. Now, sitting on the couch, Stiles could feel the drowsiness creeping over him. Stiles closed his eyes.

Just a half hour, he told himself. He could sleep for half an hour. 

Stiles woke up to a cool hand cupping his face gently, a small voice calling him back to the conscious world. 

Stiles opened his eyes and smiled at the sight. The room was nearly pitch black. The moonlight filtered in through the window, outlining the large pieces of furniture and his father’s silhouette. His father was sat on the coffee table in front of the couch. 

Stiles yawned and stretched as he sat up, his father’s hand leaving its place on his face as he did so. 

“Welcome home.” Stiles said sleepily.

“Hey, kid.” His father’s voice was hoarse.

Stiles stilled, a frown taking the place of his smile. For the first time since opening his eyes, Stiles really looked at his father. The older Stilinski was sitting with his elbows on his knees, his face ashed with worry, sadness, and regret. Stiles knew those emotions, could read them as if his father had told him exactly how he felt. It was the expression Noah Stilinski had worn almost everyday for a year after his mother died. 

Stiles’ mouth was suddenly very dry, a heavy feeling sinking in his gut. Something had happened, something terrible, and Stiles wasn’t sure he even wanted to know what it was. Except that he was Stiles: he actually really wanted to know. 

“Dad?” Stiles’ voice was as weak as he felt. 

“We found a body in the woods, today.”

Stiles’ heart sunk. He could feel his chest constrict from the weight of his father’s words. His heart rate increased as he sat there, in a house that was supposed to make him feel safe and warm, waiting for his father to continue. 

Deep down Stiles knew what was going to be said. That didn’t stop him from wishing it wasn’t true.

“I’m so sorry, Stiles. We found the body of Matt Daehler. Stiles, I’m so sorry, kid.” His father paused, then spoke in a more hushed tone. “What if that had been you in the woods? Stiles, I-” A strangled noise slipped passed his father’s lips. “I don’t know what I would do if that had been you.”

Stiles couldn’t move despite the fact that his body trembled at his father’s words. His nerves shook on their own accord, he couldn’t even force himself to wipe the tears that had begun to form and slide down his cheeks. His hands tightened on the edge of the couch, and he stared at the floor, unable to look up and meet his father’s eyes. 

Those seven words were a noose around Stiles’ neck. 

_ We found the body of Matt Daehler.  _

Stiles was vaguely aware that his father was still speaking to him but the words didn’t reach him. 

Stiles had done this. He had killed Matt. 

Stiles was suddenly in the clearing staring down Matt. Matt was angry and with a flick of his wrist, Matt was soaring through the air and landing on the ground with a crack. Stiles had done that. Stiles could see the fear in Matt’s eyes, could see the anger and hatred in the brief moment before his eyes snapped shut. The crack and thud of Matt’s lifeless body hitting the ground filled Stiles’ ears. 

Stiles hoped he wasn’t on the verge of a panic attack. He could feel the familiar tightness in his chest but nothing happened. He wasn’t even sure he had taken a breath in the last minute. Maybe that’s why the panic attack hadn’t occurred. You have to be breathing before you are unable to breathe. 

“Stiles?”

His father’s voice finally pulled Stiles from his clouded mind. 

“I-” Stiles couldn’t say anything more, his throat closing around his words.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

Strong arms wrapped around Stiles, pulling him close to the uniformed chest they were linked to. His father tucked his head in his shoulder and mumbled nonsensical words of apology and love. 

Stiles was still latched onto the couch, afraid that if he let go he would float away and not be able to find himself again. 

Stiles had killed Matt. No one had believed him. Scott had been so optimistic about finding Matt alive. Stiles had disagreed, but felt hopeful by the thought. He had hoped for nothing more than to be wrong. Why couldn’t he just be wrong this one time? 

Stiles tensed. 

He had killed Matt. 

Scott, Derek, Malia, Erica, Boyd, and Isaac had searched Beacon Hills for Matt. They were werewolves with the ability to track by scent and they hadn’t found him. 

How had the police found the body?

It took Stiles a minute, but eventually he found his words. 

“Where did you find him?” Stiles’ voice was hoarse and foreign to his own ears. 

He could feel the hard, pressed line of his father’s frown against his head.

“An anonymous caller. We found him in an abandoned cellar in the woods.”

“A cellar?” Stiles’ voice is small.

“Yeah. Right next to a very large tree stump.”

Stiles felt his head skip a beat. The erratic rate of his own heartbeat distracted him as he father started to speak again. 

“I think I should go to sleep.” Stiles blurts out. 

His father stopped mid sentence and pushed Stiles gently forward so their eyes could meet. Stiles could barely meet his father’s eyes.

Noah gave his son a small, curt nod of understanding before rising to his feet and helping Stiles do the same. 

Stiles let his father help him up the stairs and to his room. If he was honest, he was scared of being alone. He wanted someone to sit with him and chase away the nightmares that were sure to come, but his father didn’t know about the incident that plagued Stiles’ heart. 

Derek knew. Stiles had told him. Stiles found himself wanting Derek. He needed to talk to someone. 

Did Derek know they found Matt’s body? Did the pack know?

When Stiles was once again alone in his room, the light off, and after his father made him promise to talk about it with him in the morning, Stiles unplugged his phone and sent a quick text to Derek. A simple, “Can you talk?” 

Stiles knew he wasn’t going to be able to sleep. He couldn’t stop thinking about Matt and the fact that he couldn’t tell his father about that night. 

Derek’s response was immediate. Stiles’ phone buzzed from the incoming call. Stiles couldn’t help but smile a little bit, although he knew if someone was there they would say it was a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He shivered against the dark weight of the news and answered the call. 

“Stiles?” 

Stiles let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Just hearing Derek’s voice was a comfort. 

“They found Matt’s body.” Stiles voice is quieter than he meant it to be. He listens closely to the phone, hoping to hear something, anything, to gauge Derek’s reaction. 

“I’ll be there in ten.” And then Derek hangs up. 

Stiles sighed and hugged the phone to his chest. He was comforted by the thought of Derek coming to him, but ten minutes felt like forever right now. 

Stiles didn’t really think about that fact that his dad was home and that Derek was probably going to sneak in through his window. 

Stiles bit his bottom lip as he waited. His mind going everywhere and nowhere at the same time. 

Stiles jumped to his feet eagerly when a light knock in his window broke him from his thoughts. Stiles unlocked and pushed the window open without any hesitation. 

A silhouette wrapped its hand around the window sill as it pulled itself forward. It only took Stiles a moment to realize that it wasn’t Derek crawling through the window. The build of the figure’s body was all wrong, and the jerky movements, the head twitches, were wrong. 

Stiles jumped backward, tripping over a few items on his floor and falling onto his backside. Stiles dragged himself further from the window as a dark silhouette crawled through the window, head first. Its body dragged behind it, fingers wrapped in bandages reaching out and pulling it forward toward Stiles. Stiles could feel the panic building in his chest. This was the same creature from the night in the clearing. The night of the accident. The night he killed Matt. Stiles could feel the scream about to erupt from his chest. 

A light tap on the window and Stiles was back on his bed, biting his lip as he waited for Derek. He must have fallen asleep while sitting there. It was just a nightmare. 

This time, Stiles got up much slower, careful with his leg, and approached the window with more caution. He sighed in relief at the sight of Derek. The older man’s eyebrows scrunched in concern as he waited for Stiles to unlock the window. 

Stiles did, and pushed it upward to let the man in. The fresh breeze that entered his room was welcoming and refreshing. Stiles stepped backward, sitting on the edge of his bed, as Derek entered. 

“Stiles…” Derek’s voice is soft with concern. “What happened? Stiles.”

Derek made his way to kneel in front of Stiles, his hands reaching out and covering Stiles’. 

“They found his body, Derek.” Stiles speaks, but his voice doesn’t sound like his own. It sounds lifeless and strange. “I told you, before, that I was either crazy or not crazy. Matt is dead. I’m not crazy. I should be relieved, but I’m not. I killed Matt. I killed my friend.” 

“I remember you saying there was a third option.”

Stiles nodded half-heartedly at Derek’s input. 

“The Nogitsune.” 

Derek nods. 

“We don’t know how it picks its victims, Derek. I was just spouting bullshit to make myself feel better.” 

“Stiles…” 

Stiles was sure Derek didn’t know what to say or do. He was starting to think it was a bad idea to call him until Derek stood and eased himself onto Stiles’ bed. Stiles didn’t move, although he found himself intensely aware of every movement Derek made. 

Derek settled against Stiles’ pillows and drew Stiles toward him. Stiles followed the movement, his body and mind too weak to protest. Not that he would even really want to. Derek drew Stiles to his chest, his chin resting upon Stiles’ head. Stiles sighed and drew a breath, breathing in Derek’s scent. It comforted him a little bit. 

“I killed someone, Derek. How can you-” Stiles couldn’t bring himself to finish his question. 

There is a silent pause. Stiles is almost sure Derek is trying to figure out a way to leave. Instead, Derek speaks. 

“I killed a girl. Years ago, when I was in high school. She was beautiful, and an amazing cello player. I was in love with her.” Derek’s voice was low, barely above a whisper.

Stiles felt a little overwhelmed by Derek’s admission, but Derek continued to hold him tightly as he spoke. 

“She was bit. The bite didn’t take and she asked me to kill her. So, I did.” Derek’s voice is tight. “We all do things, Stiles. Sometimes, for us unlucky few, we kill someone. I’m not justifying what I did and I’m not trying to justify what you may have or may not have done.”

“I’m confused.” Stiles mumbled against the solid chest. 

Derek huffed in response. Not out of annoyance or anger. Just a huff. 

“I’m saying we live with what we do. That people can be forgiven. Can still be good and loved even after doing something terrible.” 

Stiles could feel in the way that Derek spoke that he was still trying to convince himself that it was true. 

“A werewolves eyes turn blue when they kill an innocent. My eyes were blue before I became Alpha. I’ve killed others since then: hunters, rogue wolves, creatures you haven't even heard of. Most of the time I did it because I thought it was the only thing I could do. I did it to protect myself.” 

Stiles couldn’t bring himself to speak. He liked listening to Derek talk. He hated the circumstances, but sat there enjoying the outcome. Stiles couldn’t even bring himself to hate himself for it. 

“Where did they find him?” Derek asked finally. 

“A cellar by a large tree stump, is how my father put it.” Stiles mumbled quietly in response. 

Stiles can feel Derek tense beneath him.

“I killed Matt there.” Stiles muttered when he was sure Derek wasn’t going to say anything. “But I don’t always remember being the one to do it. When I dream, half the time I am watching it happen, and the other half I am the one doing it. Matt’s anger, hatred, and fear is directed at me.”

“We’ll figure it out.” Derek says as he rubs his chin against Stiles’ head. “Together.” 

Stiles nodded against Derek’s chest. 

“You can talk, you know. I’ll listen.” Derek ran a comforting hand up and down Stiles’ back. 

Stiles pulled his head from underneath Derek’s chin in order to get a good look at the man. Derek was watching him, gentle eyes reading him like a book. Stiles sighed before tucking his head back under Derek’s chin. It made him feel safe. 

“I told you what I saw that night, Derek. I told you about my dreams. I told you Matt was dead. I hoped he wasn’t, but I knew.” Stiles inhaled sharply, trying to keep himself from crying. “I’m sorry. I was supposed to sleep and relax and not- this-” Stiles flung one arm out wildly. 

“It’s okay, Stiles.” 

Stiles could feel the exact moment Derek began drawing out his pain. It made him feel light and warm. Stiles hadn’t realized he had been in any physical pain, not until Derek begam leaching it from him. 

“You don’t have to do that.” Stiles mumbled. His eyelids fell slowly over his eyes and he relaxed into the touch. 

“It’s okay.”

“What am I supposed to do, Derek?” Stiles could feel the tears cascading from his eyes.

“For now?” Derek’s voice is quiet. “Sleep.” 

And Stiles does. He closed his eyes, letting the rest of his tears gather on his eyelashes. Eventually he found sleep, or sleep found him. Either way. 

Stiles woke up once in the middle of the night. His breathing was erratic and his own skin felt unfamiliar to him. He shot forward before a strong arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him close. 

Stiles breathed a sigh of relief. Derek was still there with him. 

“Stiles?” 

Stiles let Derek pull him backward onto the bed. 

The next time Stiles woke up, he was alone. He didn’t bolt upright in the bed like he had earlier in the night, no, he woke up slowly. No dreams haunting him into consciousness. Stiles glanced over at his phone and reached over to scoop it off the floor. Eight in the morning and a text from Derek. A simple, “Call me.” 

Stiles eased himself out of bed, and with the help of his crutches, to the bathroom. A refreshing, but difficult shower later, Stiles made his way down stairs. His father sat in the kitchen with a cup of coffee warm in his hand. 

“Hey.” Stiles said as he made his way towards the kitchen. 

His father lifted his head in response to hearing his son’s voice, and tracked him across the room. 

“How are you doing?” 

Stiles managed a small shrug. 

“He was a friend of yours.” 

It’s not really a question but Stiles nodded anyway.

Stiles had mentioned Matt to his father before. Stiles was pretty sure the two of them had met on more than one occasion. After all, Stiles had gone to highschool with Matt. 

Stiles crumbled onto the seat beside his father, his chest resting on the edge of the table and arms dangling at his side. His father’s hand quickly found Stiles’ back and moved up and down in a comforting motion. 

“Do you have any leads?” Stiles asked, his throat clenching against the words. If they had evidence, and that evidence pointed to Stiles, he didn’t know what he would do. Confess to the crime he only partly remembers and wasn’t even physically capable of doing? 

His father sighed. 

A no then. 

Stiles supposed he should be grateful, but he was also disappointed. A part of him wanted to come clean to his father about the incident and everything supernatural. 

Stiles sat up to get a good look at his father. The older Stilinski was in uniform, almost completely done drinking his coffee. Stiles sighed. Of course his father would be going into work today: they had found a body of a college student. 

“Stiles…”

“I’ll see you tonight for dinner?” Stiles interrupted his father. Not sure he wanted to talk about Matt anymore. If he did, he would end up spilling everything to his father. 

“Yeah.” The Sheriff nodded and stood, clearing the place he had occupied. “We will talk more when I get home?”

Stiles made a face. 

The Sheriff ruffled his son’s hair on the way out the door. 

Stiles didn’t even bother to attempt to fix his hair. Instead he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Derek’s number. He had spent about twenty minutes this morning before actually going downstairs to talk to his father staring at the number. He could just go to his contacts and find Derek’s name, but something about having the number tucked inside his mind was comforting. 

Derek answered after the first ring. 

“Stiles.” 

The way Derek said his name, the casual and personal tone, had Stiles sighing with relief. 

“Can we go back to that place and talk?” Stiles asked before Derek could say anything else. 

“Sure.”

“And-” Stiles hesitated. “Did you tell Scott and the rest of the pack about Matt?”

“Yeah. Are you okay with that?” 

Stiles bit his lip. Weeks ago he would have never expected Derek to ever ask Stiles if he was okay with one of Derek’s decisions. Derek was the Alpha after all, and Stiles wasn’t pack. They had barely been friends for a while there. 

Stiles was nodding before he realized Derek wasn’t in front of him and they were talking on the phone. 

“Yeah. It’s fine.” 

“I’ll be by to pick you up in a half-hour.”  

“Okay.”

After hanging up, Stiles managed his way back up the stairs to his bedroom. He sat himself on the edge of his bed. He had thirty minutes before Derek would be there. 

Stiles couldn’t help but wonder how the rest of the pack reacted to Matt’s death. Jackson, the asshole that he was, probably said good riddance and didn’t put much more thought into it. Isaac might had been a little sad. Scott would be a bit hurt, probably concerned about Stiles. No one else had really known Matt. 

Stiles thought of Danny. Matt and Danny weren’t friends, but Stiles still didn’t know what Matt asked Danny to do. 

Sighing Stiles reached for the nearest thing he could see to occupy his time and distract him: the bestiary. Stiles flipped slowly through the book. He had translated a good portion of it, now able to read a majority of it without looking at the papers with the English translation. He needed to work on his pronunciations in order to speak the language properly, but at least he could read it. 

Stiles stopped flipping the pages, a frown appearing on his face. Stiles stared at the black ink, relatively fresh compared to the rest of the writing.

あなたが奪うほど大きくなるものは何ですか？

Stiles stared at the language, brow scrunched in thought. 

Japanese. Stiles finally decided. Stiles took a picture of it and sent it to Kira. 

**To Kira:** _ Is this Japanese? _

Kira messaged back two minutes later. 

**From Kira:** _ Yes.  _

**To Kira:** _ What does it say? _

**From Kira:** _ It says “What gets bigger the more you take away?”  _

Then she added:  _ Stiles, does this have something to do with Matt? _

**To Kira:** _ I’ll let you know.  _

Stiles stared at the writing. 

What gets bigger the more you take away? 

A shiver shuddered through Stiles. It was the same question that Matt had told him not to answer. Right before Matt was thrown across the clearing. 

What gets bigger the more you take away? An internal voice, very different than the one he was accustomed to hearing when he worked through things on his own, echoed the question. 

Matt had told him not to answer the riddle. It was harder said than done. Something pulled Stiles to answer now, something internal. Biting back the answer made his head spin. It was like forgetting a word or phrase and then driving yourself crazy trying to remember what it was. 

A hole. Stiles responded to the unwelcome voice inside his head. 

Almost immediately his body relaxed, the inner demon seemingly satisfied by the response. 

Stiles popped another adderall hoping it would help him focus more. The second voice in his head was probably a result of sleep deprivation or the inability to focus on one thing, Stiles decided. 

Stiles continued to look through the bestiary. Nothing else new was written in the book so Stiles flipped back to the page. He studied the writing. The curves of the language were very similar to how he curved his letters. 

Stiles’ heart seemed to sink into his stomach at the realization. He scrambled for a pen and some paper and glanced at the page as he tried to mimic the writing in the writing. He didn’t know Japanese. He barely knew Latin. Stiles stared at the page in shock. That was his handwriting. It had to be. No one else had access to the bestiary. No one except Kira knew Japanese and she didn’t know he had a bestiary. 

This was all starting to become too much for Stiles. 

Stiles closed the book and put it in his backpack along with his laptop. He wanted to speak to Derek and then he wanted to go back to the loft and just research. He had to try to do something. 

Derek showed up and Stiles managed to get himself to the camaro and into the passenger seat without any help. Alright, Derek helped him a little bit. But Stiles felt better being able to see the little bits of progress he was making with the help of physical therapy and doing small exercises at home. The beginning had sucked, but finally being able to see the progress made everything so much better.  

Despite his progress, Stiles did let Derek help him down to the abandoned train station. Stiles brought his backpack with him. He wanted to show Derek the writing in the bestiary. He wanted to really explain what he saw the night of the accident. The night he killed Matt. 

Stiles found himself comforted by the semi-familiar location. It had been the place he confided in Derek. It had been the place they shared their first kiss. This had been the first place Stiles had thought of when he decided he and Derek needed to talk again. 

Stiles sat on the concrete block, same as last time, and Derek sat beside him. 

“I told you last time about the night of the accident. I left out some small details I didn’t think were relevant.” Stiles started, jumping right into the conversation. Ripping off the bandaid. “I didn’t tell you about the voice I heard. It whispered riddles and I felt compelled to answer. Like someone’s hand was reaching inside my chest and wrapping it’s grip around my heart, tightening harder the longer I refused to answer.”

Stiles stole a glance in Derek’s direction. The older man was listening intently, his eyebrows pulled together in thought, confusion; Stiles didn’t actually know what was going through Derek’s mind. He continued. 

“Matt was there. He kept talking about a ‘he,’ saying he would destroy me and that I couldn’t handle it. I thought Matt was going crazy. I thought I was going crazy. But I heard the voice and I saw him. I am almost one-hundred-percent sure that it is the Nogitsune.” 

Stiles thought about waiting for Derek to say something but Stiles didn’t think Derek believed him yet. So Stiles continued. 

“When I was at your place, you came back and found me sleepwalking? I don’t think I was sleepwalking. I lost three hours, Derek. When I came to, there was no pain in my leg until you mentioned it. It was as if the injury wasn’t even there. It was like my body forgot it was injured. I’ve been in less pain lately, I have more mobility. My physical therapist was somewhat surprised the last time I went.” 

Stiles hoped Derek’s face would give away something, anything, to let Stiles know what he was thinking. It didn’t. 

“Moments before you knocked on my window last night I heard a tapping on my window. I opened it without thinking and the creature from that night was there. Crawling through into my room.” Stiles couldn’t stop himself from speaking now. It all had to come out. “When you, the actual you, tapped on my window, I was back on my bed. Just waiting.”

Stiles reached for his bag and pulled out the bestiary. Derek’s eyes were on him the entire time. Stiles flipped to the page with the Japanese writing on the page. 

“This is my handwriting.” Stiles paused, somewhat for dramatic effect. “I don’t speak, read, or write Japanese, Derek.”

“What does it say?” Derek’s voice was emotionless. 

The sound of it hurt Stiles a little bit. He felt disconnected from Derek, more than ever. It hit Stiles now what this all would mean. It meant that Stiles was the enemy. Stiles had killed Matt, and probably done a number of other things he wasn’t aware of. Stiles tried to swallow the hurt in his chest. 

“It’s a riddle. The same from the night of the accident. Matt had told me not to answer it. ‘What gets bigger the more you take away?’” Stiles repeated. 

“Did you-” Derek started but Stiles interrupted.

Stiles knew Derek was asking him if he had answered the riddle. Knew he was asking Stiles if he had figured it out. 

“A hole, Derek.” Stiles felt himself deflate. “I couldn’t not answer.”

Derek was silent and Stiles couldn’t help but say what was on his mind. 

“Am I crazy, Derek? Or is this the Nogitsune? I’m freaking out and I need to know. I need to know if I need to check myself into Eichen house.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh. I was so worried about posting this chapter just because I'm iffy about how I wrote it. I had my Beta go over it a couple times just to be sure it was still cohesive with the story and plot building. Things will hopefully start kicking off in upcoming chapters and then it will come to a close.   
> I want to write a sequel and maybe some oneshots to go along with it after it's posted but we will see how that goes. I might also go back and rewrite the entire beginning just in Stiles POV and repost it as a series. I say all this but who knows if it will actually happen.   
> Let me know what you guys think? How are you liking it? What don't you like? Or just leave some kudos. It is all appreciated! I will try to get back to replying to comments as well.   
> Thank you! <3


	29. Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t think leaving you is a good idea.”
> 
> “Scott. Please. Just, please.” Stiles pleaded.
> 
> Scott’s face softened and his friend nodded.
> 
> “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! Two weeks late. I am working on the next chapters. I hope to post one of them soon to make up for last week but if I don't I'm sorry!   
> Let me know what you think! Leave a comment <3

Derek had told Stiles that he would speak to Kira, Deaton, and Satomi about the Nogitsune and what to do if it was harassing someone. Derek had made it clear that Stiles wasn’t allowed to come. Stiles hadn’t even bothered protesting. They had come to a compromise. 

Derek agreed not to mention Stiles by name or affiliation to the pack. 

Stiles had hoped it would ease his anxiety. It didn’t. He still wasn’t sure if he wasn’t going crazy. Despite any sort of facts that pointed away from that possibility, the thought gnawed at his mind. 

Stiles continued to be anxious. Especially since Derek didn’t tell him anything after the meetings had occurred. 

Derek met up with each of them, and said nothing about it to Stiles. He more-or-less told Stiles that they were each gathering intel and that when they knew something, Stiles would be in the loop. 

It was generous to say Stiles was upset. He had been pissed at Derek for keeping him in the dark. Somehow, however, the older man had talked Stiles down. Stiles wasn’t even sure what it had been that made him agree to be patient. Maybe the way Derek had looked at him, soft eyes filled with worry. Maybe it was the way Derek had slowly dragged Stiles toward him, enveloped Stiles’ body with his own and kissed his temple. Maybe it had been the feather-like kisses that Derek had trailed down Stiles’ throat. 

One way or another, Stiles had caved and agreed to be patient. The entire thing was making him antsy. 

Stiles groaned. 

The only upside to this week was that he was getting his jeep back. Not that he could drive it or anything, which really sucked, but at least he would have the familiar blue jeep safely waiting for him in his driveway for the moment he could finally drive it again. 

Scott had volunteered to drive it to his house for him. Lydia would drop both him and Stiles off at the mechanic and then Scott would drive Stiles and his jeep home with Lydia following behind. 

Thinking about his jeep reminded Stiles of the expensive bills he would have to pay. He promised his father he would get a part-time job, although the older Stilinski had assured him that the Sheriff was the parent and Stiles was the child. Stiles had to bite back his remark about technically being an adult. It wasn’t like it was actually something he was proud of. Being an adult kind of sucked. 

Stiles entered the library, showing his student identification to the bearded librarian at the front before heading toward the back. He stared at the floor, lost in thought, until he neared his destination. The library was relatively empty save for the odd student here and there studying for upcoming exams. 

Stiles stared at the bookshelves. It had be so familiar to him at the beginning of the semester. Now, many things had changed. 

He had stopped coming here after becoming closer with the pack and Scott. Because he had friends now. 

Were they really his friends though? Would they slowly become more distant when this entire thing was solved and things settled down? 

Stiles shook his head in an attempt to chase the thoughts away. 

It wasn’t like that. Scott was Stiles’ friend. They all were. He had known them for a couple months now and it felt so much longer than that. He had spent his time pining after Derek, although he hadn’t even really realized he had been pining. Derek was with Stiles because he wanted to be, because he liked him. Because the two of them liked each other. 

Stiles glanced from the spot he would sit and spend hours studying, doing assignments, or napping to the bookshelves, across the way to where he had first seen Lydia, Malia, Scott, and Jackson together. It was odd. He could remember the first time he saw them there, despite them being complete strangers. Something about that day had made the incident stick with him. 

Had they noticed him? 

Stiles glanced back at the nook where his table sat. His little “too close to tell” corner. The unlabeled bookshelves had been cleared of the unused books and replaced with an entire section of religious texts for the classes offered at the community college. Stiles felt a pang of loss at the sight of the redone section. He had felt comforted by an entire section of books that sat on the line between fiction and nonfiction. It had made him feel a little bit better about his place in the world. 

Stiles supposed it didn’t really matter now. He had friends, people that cared about him. He was tempted to even say he had a boyfriend, although the prospect of it, of defining and labeling it, whatever he had, was still somewhat frightening. He liked Derek but the entire thing was new. Stiles scolded himself. He should just get over himself and ask Derek to be his boyfriend. He should.

But later. After everything was calm. Maybe Derek would still want to be with him.

Stiles’ swept over the library. This was where it had started. 

Matt had been here, some time before he died. Stiles’ chest tightened in response to the thought. 

Stiles wasn’t even sure why he was here anymore. His favorite place in the library seemed to barren and strange now despite the new renovations. He was hoping to find a clue, anything, to help explain something, anything, about what was happening. 

Stiles sighed and turned to leave. He wanted to be alone, but he didn’t want to be alone here. It no longer felt safe. Matt had been manipulated into manipulating Stiles. He was still trying to figure out why it was him that became a target but that wasn’t really his priority. He wanted to know how to make it stop. 

Stiles wandered the campus before finding himself sitting in a classroom. Stiles seemed to emerge glassy eyed from whatever trance his thoughts left him in. Looking up and around, a few other students had their gaze fixed on him. Stiles didn’t recognize any of them. Glancing up to the front, Stiles was sure he didn’t even know the teacher. This wasn’t his class. Dread punched Stiles in the gut. He checked the time on his phone and cursed. Whatever class this was, it wasn’t his. His had ended half an hour ago. Stiles scrambled to his feet and booked it out the door. 

Stiles was aware of the eyes on his back, the murmurs. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and he was sure if he wasn’t so terrified he would be blushing from embarrassment. He had lost time again. Two hours worth. Stiles rushed through the courtyard. He barely registered a voice calling his name. 

When he turned, he was greeted by Danny. 

“Stiles! You okay?” 

Stiles stopped short, giving Danny a small smile. Stiles was pretty sure he looked like he was cringing or constipated. 

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Danny paused, looking Stiles up and down, before speaking again. “Where are your crutched? Aren’t you supposed to have them for a few more weeks?” 

Stiles was pretty sure he paled further. He hadn’t even realized the lack of his crutches. He hadn’t felt any pain in his leg, he still didn’t. Stiles braced himself for the onslaught of pain; the last time he had lost time and walked without the crutches he had felt the pain as soon as someone had mentioned it. The pain never came. Stiles lifted the weight off his leg anyway, more for appearance than anything, 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Physical therapy and all. Supposed to walk without the crutched every now and then.” 

Danny gave him a sceptical look but Stiles carried on, changing the subject, before Danny could say anything. 

“I’m sorry about Matt.” Stiles managed. 

Danny’s face fell. Stiles hadn’t wanted to use Matt as a way to get the talk away from him and his leg, he felt bad about it, but it had worked. 

“I’m sorry too. You knew him better than I did.” Danny shifted a bit uncomfortably

Stiles nodded solemnly. 

“Hey, Danny?”

“Yeah?”

“I know this is a bit unconventional and all, but I was wondering if I could know what Matt had you do?” Stiles watched Danny’s face, his lips curved down in a frown. Stiles hurried to add. “I want to tell my dad about it. Maybe it’s connected to Matt’s death.” 

Danny’s face loosened in thought. 

“You can’t tell your dad you got it from me, okay? I don’t need my side business in jeopardy.”

“That’s fine. I can tell him someone anonymously left it on our doorstep or something. I’ll make sure he doesn’t know where I really got it from.” 

Danny nodded after a few moments, apparently satisfied with Stiles. 

“I can give it to you later today, before practice. I have to head to my last class.” 

Stiles nodded. He was curious, extremely, but he wasn’t going to push and make Danny suspicious. He could wait until before lacrosse practice.  

Danny gave Stiles another once-over. 

“You should really be careful on that leg.” 

Stiles glanced down at his leg and then back up at Danny. 

“Yeah. You’re right. Help me over to the benches?” 

Danny nodded and Stiles let Danny lead him to the nearest bench. Satisfied that Stiles was off his leg, Danny took off to class. 

With Danny gone, Stiles was swarmed with a number of emotions. His good leg bounced in rhythm to the anxiety Stiles felt in his chest. He should call Derek. He should.

Stiles’ phone buzzed in his pocket. Stiles answered without checking the ID. He hoped it was Derek. 

“Yeah?” 

“Stiles, it’s Kira.”

Stiles’ heart deflated a little. He did his best to hide his disappointment. 

“Kira? What’s up?”

“My mother is releasing the Oni.” 

“The what?” 

“They are unstoppable demons. She is using them to find the Nogitsune.”

“Okay, but what does that mean? Demons? Are they going to hurt people?”

“Not if they are themselves.” 

“What does that even mean? Not themselves?”

“If they are possessed by the Nogitsune.” 

Stiles could hear every beat his heart made, could feel the blood traveling through his veins, the bob of his throat as he struggled to swallow. 

“What happens if they find someone who is possessed?” 

“They will kill them.”

“Kira, you can’t let your mom release them.” 

“I don’t think I can convince her not to. I barely got her to agree to wait after I told her you guys were trying to help. With that kid dead though, she feels responsible. Satomi said the only way to stop the Nogitsune was to kill the host. Derek-”

“Wait. What?”

“Derek said we-”

“No. What Satomi told you.”

“The only way she and my mother stopped it the first time was by killing the host- Didn’t Derek tell you this? We discussed it. He wanted us to find another way.” 

Stiles’ mind was reeling. 

“No, yeah. It must have slipped my mind.” 

Stiles knew that wasn’t true. Derek had kept this from him, had convinced him to be patient. Which meant that Derek didn’t think Stiles was crazy, he thought Stiles was dangerous. He thought Stiles was possessed by the Nogitsune. 

Stiles didn’t know why but his chest hurt and he felt lost. 

“Stiles?”

“Tell me more about the Oni.” Stiles managed eventually.

“The Oni will be able to figure out who it is. Maybe if we use them to find the person, we can interfere before they kill them and try to help them.”

“You said they were an unstoppable force. How do you stop something supernatural that is unstoppable?”

“I just figured-”

Stiles interrupted her before she could finish her sentence. He was angry now. He wasn’t even sure why. Derek had kept him in the dark but had the roles been reversed Stiles wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have done the same thing. 

“Even if we would stop the Oni in time, we don’t know how to help this person.”

“We can figure something out, Stiles. I don’t know you very well but I know you are smart. Scott brags about you all the time. You’ve got this.”

Stiles sighed. He shouldn’t be snapping at Kira. She had been nothing but helpful since the beginning. 

“Stiles? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, Kira. Thank you for your help. I’m fine, I just want to clean this all up quickly.” 

Stiles could practically hear Kira nodding her head in understanding. 

“I know. I’ll see if I can convince my mom to wait a little while longer. I don’t know if she will listen though. If anyone else dies, it’s on us. All of us.” 

“I know. I’ll relay your message to the rest of the pack.” 

“Keep me in the loop.”

“Okay.” 

Stiles hung up and clasped his hands together, his phone in between them, and leaned forward. 

Stiles knew he should call Derek and tell him about what Kira has said, but the thought of speaking to Derek only angered him. He shot Derek a quick text instead, unable to help himself. His emotions were going haywire and he needed something to lash out against. 

**To Sourwolf:** _ Asshole. I cannot fucking believe you. _

Stiles didn’t have to wait long for a reply. A series of “What’s wrong?,” “Stiles talk to me,” texts that Stiles promptly ignored. 

He wanted Derek to suffer a bit. 

When Derek tried calling, Stiles hung up and turned off his phone. He had hoped that upsetting Derek a little would help clear his head but it only made matters worse. 

Stiles, no longer able to sit still, pushed himself off the bench and took off walking in a random direction. It didn’t matter where he went. He just couldn’t sit still any longer. 

Stiles groaned in agitation for no apparent reason. 

Stiles had wandered around for maybe five minutes before a loud bang resonated around him. Stiles recognized the familiar noise almost immediately. An explosion. Something had happened on campus. 

The explosion shook the around him. Stiles’ head shot up from where he was staring at the ground. He noticed the smoke almost immediately and took off in the direction of it. He ignored his leg, it didn’t hurt, the brace scraped against his leg but it barely registered. 

Stiles knew the building. It was the photography classroom. Students were vacating the room, smoke pouring through the door behind them. They were covered in soot and scattered scrapes but most were relatively unharmed. The teacher was carrying a limp student from the room. 

An uneasy feeling settled in his gut. He had done this. Something inside him screamed at him. He had done this in the time he had lost. This was his fault. Stiles stumbled backward a bit. 

It had been Matt’s favorite class room. Stiles knew the explosion had occurred in the dark room. Somehow he just knew. Stiles continued to watch as people began to flood from different directions, some offering help, others stopping to record it. He noticed a girl off to the left on the phone with the police. She was shaking with nerves, it was probably the first time she had called the police. 

Stiles thought of his father. If anyone found out it had been Stiles that had done this- his father’s career would be at risk. Stiles could feel the panic building in his chest. He laid his hand over his heart trying to calm his erratic heart rate. Nothing seemed to work. Stiles slid himself to the ground and tried to breathe. His vision blurred and his eyes stung, tears beginning to flow down his cheeks. 

A hand touched his shoulder and Stiles flinched away. Someone was saying something. Stiles didn’t know what was going on anymore. He couldn’t breathe and he was trying to hard to calm down. It wasn’t until the person removed Stiles’ hand from over his heart and relocated it to their own chest that Stiles began to understand the words. 

“Breathe with me. Come on. Match your breathing with mine. In… and out… Stiles. Come on.” 

Stiles listened to Scott’s voice, his friend Scott, and did his best to match their breathing. Eventually, what felt like forever to Stiles, he could open his eyes and breathe normally again.

“You okay?” Scott asked, worry and fear laced in his tone. 

“Peachy.” Stiles managed. He fell backward onto his ass intentionally before laying himself down on the ground. 

“You don’t look okay- Look, Stiles. Get up. You can’t stay there like that right now. That classroom is on fire. Stiles, get up.” 

Scott grabbed onto Stiles’ arm and he let his friend pull him up. 

Scott led Stiles away from the activity. Stiles had once again forgotten about his injury, Scott’s steady arm around him reminded him to limp a bit. 

“What the heck were you thinking, Stiles?”

Stiles didn’t say anything. He should have, but he didn’t know what to say. Scott was such a good friend and Stiles couldn't even bring himself to talk about the thoughts plaguing him. But he had spoken to Derek about it, confided in him. Derek had kept what Satomi said a secret from him. Did Scott know?

Stiles glanced at his friend from the corner of his eyes. His friend’s eyebrows were scrunched in concern. 

“I’m fine, Scott.” 

“Stiles.” Scott glanced over at Stiles and frowned. “Where the hell are your crutches?”

“I don’t know.” Stiles mumbled unhappily. 

“How can you not know?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember where I left them.” 

“Stiles, what the hell is going on?” 

“I don’t know.”

“You’re lying to me.” 

Stiles cast a guilty look over at Scott. 

“I’m calling Lydia. You need to go home. Get some rest or something.”

“I’m not tired.” Stiles mumbled but he didn’t really argue with Scott much more than that. 

As Scott dropped Stiles off on a bench in the courtyard, Stiles remembered he agreed to meet with Danny before practice. 

Scott was already pressing his cell phone to his ear, waiting for Lydia to pick up. 

“Scott.” 

Scott was still turned away from Stiles, though Stiles was one-hundred-percent sure the other had heard him. 

“Scott.” Stiles sighed and yanked on Scott’s sleeve. 

Scott turned, an eyebrow quirked in question.

“I can’t leave yet. Danny has something I need.”

“What does he- Lydia, hey! Can you come get Stiles. He isn’t feeling well.” 

Stiles rolled his eyes. 

“Okay. I’ll call him.” 

Stiles was pretty sure Scott was talking about Derek. He was going to call Derek. Stiles bristled in agitation at the thought. 

“No, Scott.”

“What, why?- No, not you, Lydia. I was talking to Stiles.- Yeah.” Scott hung up and turned back to Stiles. “Why not, Stiles?” 

“Did you know, Scott?”

“Know what?”

“What Satomi had told Derek. What he had spoken to Kira about. Am I the only one that didn’t know?” 

Scott flinched.

“Derek said he would talk to you about it.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Stiles snapped at Scott. They had been over all of this. The keeping secrets and not including one another.

“Derek said-”

“I don’t care what Derek said!”

“But he’s the Alpha, Stiles-”

“He isn’t my alpha, Scott!” 

Scott flinched and Stiles took pleasure in it. He didn’t know why. It reminded him of the night in the woods with Matt. The thought soured Stiles’ mood further.

Stiles glanced around the courtyard. It was relatively clear, everyone's attention was on the classroom on fire. Stiles could hear some sirens in the distance. 

“Can you go make sure everyone is okay?” Stiles asked Scott. 

Scott glanced over to the commotion. 

“I don’t think leaving you is a good idea.”

“Scott. Please. Just, please.” Stiles pleaded. 

Scott’s face softened and his friend nodded. 

“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” 

Stiles nodded and watched Scott take off back toward the commotion. 

With Scott gone, Stiles stood.

His feet moved on their own accord. Stiles didn’t know where he was going, he was just moving away from the commotion. 

He found himself in one of the student parking lots standing beside a familiar silver porsche. 

Stiles caught his reflection in the window and frowned. 

The reflection smiled back.


	30. M.I.A

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re in pain.”
> 
> “It’s not that bad. More like a dull ache.”
> 
> “Where?”
> 
> “Everywhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter! Yay! Let me know what you think! <3

Stiles didn’t know when he had fallen asleep. He actually didn’t remember much of the day at all. He remembered waking up and Derek taking him to campus. He remembered soft kisses against his lips and walking to class. He remembered finding himself in the library after class and then nothing. 

His head pounded in response to the attempt to open his eyes. Stiles groaned and forced his eyelids upward, his vision returned to him. Stiles was in a dark room lying on the cold tile floor. Stiles pushed himself upward and nearly jumped out of his own skin when the light suddenly came on. Stiles glanced around the room. It was a hospital room. The tell-tale bed and hospital equipment gave it away. Stiles groaned and pushed himself off the ground and onto his feet. 

Stiles froze, his eyes widening at the sight before him. 

A middle-aged woman lay in the hospital bed, her hand moving in a soothing motion on the back of a young boy who had fallen asleep on top of her other hand. Stiles tried to swallow but nearly choked on his own saliva. 

No one noticed him. It was as if he wasn’t really there. 

His chest ached at the sight before him. 

This shouldn’t be possible. None of this should be possible. 

Stiles watched in morbid fascination as the boy slowly woke and looked up at the woman. 

Stiles could feel the tears building in his eyes now. 

The woman beckoned the boy up onto the bed with her. He easily clambered on and settled along her side, head resting under her chin. He was listening to her heart beat. 

Of course he was. She was dying and he was terrified of the moment it would stop. 

“Fascinating. Isn’t it?” 

Stiles spun around to face the person who had broken his moment of grief. Standing in the doorway was a man, at least Stiles assumed it was a man based off the voice, covered from head to toe in bandages and wearing a doctor’s coat. He help a clipboard in his hand. Stiles stared at the creature. Stiles knew it was the same one from the night of the accident, he knew it was the same one that had crawled through his window the night the police found Matt’s body.

Stiles didn’t say anything, but then again he didn’t have to. The creature spoke before he could even piece his words together in a sentence. 

“One little event and the feeble mind of a human is overcome with grief, anger, and other unsolved emotions.” 

The thing wasn’t looking at Stiles. It was watching the scene behind him. 

Stiles turned around. The boy was no longer on the bed with his mother. He was back in the seat beside the bed, wearing something completely different, holding his mother’s hand and crying. Stiles couldn’t bring himself to turn away. It hurt. Of course it did. He was watching his mother die all over again. 

“Why?” Stiles managed barely above a whisper. 

“Because it’s fun.” 

Stiles whipped around to face his tormentor only to find the entire environment had changed. He was standing in a basement. The only light emitting from the floor above the grate ceiling. The sound of fingers strumming against metal had Stiles scanning the semi-darkness for the source of the noise. 

Stiles didn’t say anything. He didn’t call out. He was pretty sure he knew who it was that was making the noise. He was also pretty sure that he was dreaming or hallucinating. It was impossible to move from one place to another so quickly. It had also been impossible for him to relive his mother’s time in the hospital. Whatever this was, although he had a theory, was messing with his head. 

“Stiles.” The snake-like manner of speaking that drew out his name had Stiles shivering in disgust. 

Stiles was scared. He was terrified. He wasn’t prepared for this. He didn’t know what to do. What he did know was that staying silent wasn’t doing anything to help him. 

“Who are you?”

“What gets wetter the more it dries?” 

Stiles’ face pinched in annoyance. Another riddle. What was it with this thing and riddles? 

“What are you?” Stiles tried again, raising his voice ever-so-slightly. 

Nothing responded. The noise stopped and Stiles was left standing in the dark. The silence was even more frightening than hearing the creature. 

Stiles flinched away, flailing, his hand reaching to his neck, in response to the sudden feather-like touch of hot air that brushed his neck. Stiles froze at the sight. 

The bandaged man stood before him, it’s head cocked slightly to the side in a very animalistic way. 

“You know.” The thing dragged in a breath, leaving it’s mouth hanging apart slightly. 

“The Nogitsune.” Stiles managed. 

Stiles removed his hand from his neck, the spot felt exposed and disgusting; as if something slimy had been crawling on his skin, and took a step back. 

“Correct.” The voice rasped. “Stiles… Stiles. Do you want to play a game?” 

“Not really.” 

“Winner gets freedom.” 

Stiles narrowed his eyes at the Nogitsune. 

“No. No games! This is a dream. And when I wake up, you will be gone. I am in control. This is my dream.” Stiles hoped he sounded more confident then he felt. He wasn’t really sure of anything at this point. 

“Where are you now, Stiles? Tell me. Where are you?” 

Stiles struggled to swallow, glancing around at his surroundings. He was in a basement of sorts, not anywhere he was familiar with. 

“Do you know? No?” The Nogitsune took a step closer. “If you are dreaming, where are you?”

The Nogitsune cocked it’s head to the other side, it’s mouth still hanging apart. 

“Where are you?!” The Nogitsune lunged toward Stiles, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and thrusting him backwards against the wall. 

“I-I don’t know.” Stiles sputtered.

The grip released him and Stiles slid to the floor. 

“Winner gets freedom.” The Nogitsune repeated. 

“It’s my body.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.” Stiles’ jaw tightened. He felt so weak. He could claim he was in control but a part of him knew it wasn’t true. He was missing time. He was missing time and he was pretty sure the Nogitsune had taken it from him. 

“Where are you now, Stiles? Are you here- in this basement? Are you at your school? Are you with-” The creature paused, it’s cruel mouth turning upward in a demonic smile. “Derek?” 

Stiles’ heart stuttered in his chest cavity betraying his attempted composure. 

Derek. Stiles had been an idiot-asshole and ignored Derek’s calls. He had turned off his phone. He had isolated himself. If he hadn’t been so angry, if he had managed his emotions better, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. 

“Stiles…” 

Stiles lifted his head to find the Nogitsune barely a foot away from him. 

“What did he think, Stiles? When you killed Matt. What did his face look like? Did he look at you differently? Oh, Stiles. Did you see his fear? His disgust?”

“Stop it.” Stiles’ voice came out strangled. He had screwed up. 

“What do you say, Stiles? Do you want to play a game? You win, I let them all live. You lose, you get to watch them suffer. Their deaths will be slow and painful. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

“No. No games. You aren’t in control.” 

The Nogitsune tisked and stood, stepping away from Stiles’ form. 

“Where are you, Stiles?” 

Stiles’ suddenly felt nauseous. He pinched his eyes closed for a moment waiting for the feeling to go away. When it dissipated, Stiles opened his eyes again. 

Stiles felt very disconnected with his surroundings and actions. He opened his eyes but found himself unable to control his body’s movements. He couldn’t even frown at the realization. He knew he- his body was smiling. He was behind the wheel of a gorgeous car. His body glanced toward the side mirror of the vehicle and Stiles recognized it immediately. It was Jackson’s porsche. The driver’s side window was shattered, small pieces of glass still sticking up from the door although some fell off as the car sped down a road. 

Stiles closed his eyes, still unable to actually make his physical form do the simple task, and tried to focus. He tried to focus on what it felt like to move his body. He tried to chase the Nogitsune from his mind. He tried to take back control. 

Nothing worked. 

Stiles was swarmed by the nauseous feeling again. His eyes closed and opened and he stood in a very large, very white room. Stiles glanced around, finding it empty except for the large tree stump sat in the middle. Stiles approached it slowly, sure it was the Nemeton. 

As Stiles neared, he noticed the the nineteen-by-nineteen game board and white and black pieces lined up on opposite side of the board. 

“What is this?” Stiles asked, to noone in particular and with no confidence he would get an answer. 

“A game of GO.” 

Stiles didn’t need to turn around to know the Nogitsune was behind him. Instead, Stiles stepped closer to the Nemeton. He rounded it until the stump was between himself and the Nogitsune. 

“This is your game?” Stiles asked.

“Winner gets to posses the physical form.” The Nogitsune gave a gesturing arm sweep toward the game. 

“How do you play?” Stiles found himself asking. He knew he was losing control of himself to the Nogitsune. While Stiles was pretty sure the Nogitsune could never have complete control of Stiles if it didn’t win against him, he also knew that he would never be free of the supernatural menace unless he himself won. 

Stiles couldn’t lose. He couldn’t. His father was out there, so unaware of the extent to which the world actually reached. Stiles was also the last thing his father had. 

That of course wasn’t the only reason. While it would have been last semester, things had changed. Stiles had Scott and the pack to think about. He had Derek to think about. He wanted to apologize. It was a given that Stiles was still mad at Derek for keeping him somewhat in the dark but he wasn’t mad enough not to run into his arms and cling to the grumpy werewolf, to apologize for turning off his phone and not talking it out. 

Stiles wanted to go home. 

The Nogitsune smiled and approached the board. 

“The goal is to control more territory than your opponent. We alternate turns, I’ll go first.” The Nogitsune dropped a small black stone, one of the pieces that had been lined up beside the board, onto the wooden game board. 

Stiles took another step closer. He was now close enough to reach out and move a white piece of his own. He turned the piece of in his hand. It was smooth and cold to touch. 

“And?”

“You take out your opponent's pieces by surrounding their piece with your own. Once a piece has been placed on the board they cannot be moved. Your move.” 

Stiles moved the smooth stone between his fingers a couple more times before placing it a few places away from the Nogitsune’s piece. 

“You have me at a disadvantage.” Stiles said as he placed the stone. 

“My game, my rules. You can’t beat me.”

“What happens to you if I win?” 

It was a strategy game; Stiles was good at strategy. He could do this. He could win. He had to after all. 

“If you win, I would be gone.” The Nogitsune moved another piece onto the board. 

“Nothing is ever that simple.” Stiles spun the next piece between his two fingers before placing it. 

The Nogitsune didn’t say anything. Instead it moved another piece onto the board, the first to really encroach onto Stiles’ territory. 

Stiles is the first to knock a piece off the board. He surrounds one of the Nogitsune’s black pieces with his own white. The Nogitsune hissed at the move but Stiles refused to let himself relish in the moment. 

Soon after Stiles’ move, he was overwhelmed with the nauseous feeling that had plagued him earlier. Stiles’ eyes forced themselves closed and Stiles didn’t fight it. His eyes closed and when he opened them he was lying on the ground somewhere. It was dark and cold. Stiles slid a hand across the ground trying to get his bearings. Twigs, leaves, and dirt were all he could feel. 

Stiles felt suffocated by the seemingly closed space. An eery pitched noise found it’s way to his ears. Stiles pulled his hands up to cover his ears, pressing as if it would chase the noise from his head.

A hand latched itself onto his ankles and pulled him toward it. Stiles felt the panic surged through his body. He grabbed blindly for something to grab onto but all he could find were the ground and leaves that sat upon it. Stiles yelled and kicked against it. He was ninety-percent sure it was the Nogitsune toying with his mind once again and Stiles refused to play along.

Something growled, pulling him faster. 

Stiles emerged from the cave he had apparently been in, rushed by the warm spring breeze. Stiles continued to claw at the ground and away from the hand that held him. 

Stiles found himself flipped over onto his back, hands pinned to the ground above his head. 

“Stiles!” 

The noise stopped when Stiles recognized his name. When he recognized the person looming over him. 

“Derek?” Stiles’ voice came out weak, shaken, and rough. Stiles coughed in an attempt to smother the sob building in his chest. 

Derek’s face softened and he released Stiles’ hands, choosing to wrap his arms around Stiles’ shoulders and bring him into a tight hug instead. Derek tucked his head in Stiles’ shoulder. 

Derek was obviously worried. He was worried about Stiles. 

The thought made his heart flutter a bit. It also made Stiles wonder just how long he had been gone and what the hell had happened. 

“Derek?” Stiles tried again. 

Derek pulled away from Stiles a bit and manhandled him in an attempt to check for injuries. The older man still had yet to say anything other than Stiles’ name. 

“I’m fine.” Stiles tried weakly but he didn’t stop the probing hands. 

Finally satisfied, Derek rested his head against Stiles’. 

“How long?” Stiles asked. 

“Two days.” 

Stiles took in a sharp breath. 

“Derek, the Nogitsune-”

“I know.”

“You know?” Stiles was hoping he came off angrier than he felt. It was hard to even pretend to be angry when Derek was holding him close and looking at him with concern. 

Derek pulled back, his brow scrunched in thought. He was worried that Stiles would be angry with him or push him away.

“Not for sure. Not until-” 

Until Stiles had blown up a classroom at his school and gone missing for two days. 

“My dad?” Stiles asked nervously. His father was going to kill him. Especially since Stiles had no idea how to explain any of this to him. 

“Scott covered for you; we found your bag, crutches, and phone on campus. Scott texted your dad you were staying over to finish a project. But you should talk to him, Stiles. Your dad should know. This is getting bigger than we originally thought.”

Stiles frowned. It was odd hearing this come from Derek. As far as Stiles knew, Derek hated informing people of the supernatural.

“Can we talk about this later? I feel like shit, I’m starving, I’m cold, I’m tired. I have no idea what happened during the last two days but I’m sure it's not good. We need to figure this out quickly.”

Derek nodded but Stiles could see his hesitance. It was then that Stiles remembered the last words they shared. 

“Sorry I called you an asshole.”

“No. You were right. I had hoped I could come to you with a solution. I shouldn't have kept what I knew hidden from you.” Derek ran a hand through Stiles’ hair before continuing. “We can figure this out.” 

Stiles gave Derek a small smile. He had been so worried about whatever he had with Derek. Their relationship had a rocky start, but both of them were attracted to the other more than just physically (at least he hoped that was how it was), and they had been able to move past it. Stiles wasn't mad at Derek for what Peter did, he had learned quickly that Peter was kind of a wild card. 

Derek helped Stiles to his feet. Stiles stumbled slightly, leaning heavily on Derek for support. The pain in his leg was back. 

On their way to the camaro, Derek called Scott to let him know Stiles was found and safe and they were going to the loft. Stiles didn't argue. He didn't want to be alone right now. He was terrified that he would lose himself again. 

He didn’t voice this. He was pretty sure that Derek was afraid of the same thing. 

“Scott is going to bring some food. Are you sure nothing else is wrong?”

Stiles sighed as he settled into the passenger seat of the camaro. He waited for Derek to round the car and settle in the driver’s seat. 

“Everything is wrong, Derek.”

Derek held his hand out for Stiles, and Stiles took it. Their fingers laced together comfortably and Stiles sighed in relief. He was safe for now. He was okay. Stiles found that when he was with Derek he felt himself able to believe that things would be okay. 

Stiles didn’t see the moment when Derek began to frown, but he did feel the moment when Derek tensed. Stiles turned and raised a questioning eyebrow at Derek.

“You’re in pain.”

“It’s not that bad. More like a dull ache.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

Stiles sighed at the feeling of relief that flooded his body as Derek drained his pain. 

“You’re driving,” Stiles mumbled. “You shouldn’t do that too much.”

“It’s fine.” 

“Are you mad at me?” Stiles felt himself asking. He closed his eyes and settled against the seat. 

“I’m worried.” 

Stiles peeked open an eyelid to look at Derek. The older man looked like he was holding back something he wanted to say. Stiles closed his eyes again. 

“You can just say it, you know. Whatever it is. I won’t-”

“I like you.” 

Stiles’ eyes snapped open and he turned to face Derek. The older man’s hand gripped his a little harder. Derek continued without turning toward Stiles, eyes glued intensely onto the road ahead of them. 

“I know you don’t want to label this, I understand the fear of trusting someone.” Derek cast Stiles a quick look. “I like you and I trust you. I was worried when you disappeared, more than I have been about anything in awhile.” Derek growled in frustration. “I’m not good with words, Stiles.”

“I think you’re doing a pretty good job so far.” 

Derek shot him a glare. Not the “I hate you” glare but the “that’s not the point stop being cute” glare. At least, that’s what Stiles decided it was. 

“I like you too.” Stiles finally admitted. “I wanted to make our thing official I just wasn’t sure how to go about it. You’ve been patient with me and I appreciate it. I’m sorry something like this had to happen in order for us to even really talk about it.” 

“That seems to be a pattern for us.” Derek sighed. He rubbed his thumb up along Stiles’ hand. 

Stiles didn’t say anything. Derek was right. It had taken Stiles’ car accident for them to even consider being a thing-being anything. Now Stiles was on the verge of going crazy- No. He was being tormented by an evil supernatural fox spirit. Stiles could probably question the healthiness of this relationship, but he didn’t really want to. It was more than just the chaotic events that drew him to Derek. It was Derek’s uncanny ability to have entire conversations with just his eyebrows, it was Derek’s earnest worry for his packmates, it was the soft looks the older werewolf shared with Stiles when they were alone, it was Derek’s willingness to let Stiles in and trust him. 

Stiles must have fallen asleep because he found himself struggling to peel them open now. Stiles squinted against the dark. He couldn’t see much and it reminded him of the cave Derek had found him in. Fear exploded inside his chest and Stiles shot upward into a sitting position. Before Stiles could make it anywhere, strong arms wrapped carefully around his waist, keeping him from launching himself across the room.

“Stiles. Hey,” It was Derek. Derek was running one hand up and down Stiles’ arm in a comforting motion while still holding him close. “You’re okay. You’re safe.” Derek offered the words softly.

“I-I…”

“It’s okay. We are at the loft. You passed out.”

Stiles let out a long shaky breath before collapsing backwards against Derek. The older man had shifted so Stiles’ back was resting on his chest.

“Scott?”

“He brought some food and waited around a bit before he had to take off.”

Stiles nodded and closed his eyes. A moment later he eased one eye open to look around again, suddenly very aware of where he was. 

“Am I in your bed?”

Stiles felt Derek’s chest rise and fall as he took in a deep breath and let it out.

“Yes.”

Short, simply, to the point. Not really the full explanation Stiles was looking for. Maybe a “Yes, Stiles. I wanted you to be comfortable as you slept.” Nope. Derek was back to a one-word answer. 

“I’m in your bed.”

“Yes.”

“With you.” 

Stiles felt Derek tense slightly.

“Nothing happened, Stiles. I-”

“No! I didn’t mean anything like that.” Stiles was quick to shut down whatever Derek was thinking about. He trusted Derek. He wasn’t trying to insinuate anything or make this weird, because oddly enough it didn’t feel weird. Being wrapped in Derek’s arm and blankets felt comforting. “I just meant that this was your bed.”

“And?”

“You’re the Alpha. Isn’t this invading your personal territory or something. Smells and all that?” Stiles wasn’t afraid to admit he had done research on everything werewolf related. How packs worked, the importance of touch and smell. Pack dynamics. If anyone asked Stiles would say it was just curiosity that had him researching for endless hours at night and into the early morning. He would only admit to himself that it was also because he didn’t want to screw this up. He didn’t want the pack to reject him and treat him like an outsider if he didn’t fully understand how they worked. 

Stiles could feel Derek relax underneath him. The older man sighed and brought Stiles closer to his chest. Stiles instinctively tilted his head to the side to let Derek settle more comfortably. Derek’s breath hitched slightly, yes, Stiles noticed, and the older man nuzzled into the crook of Stiles’ neck. 

“I want you here.” Derek eventually responded. 

Stiles couldn’t help the small smile that formed on his lips. It was quick to disappear when he remembered what had brought them here.

“Even though I’m being controlled by a sadistic spirit.” 

“You aren’t being controlled.” Derek huffed.

“I was gone for two days.”

“And now you’re back. It doesn’t have full control over you. We will figure it out before it even comes to that.” 

“I thought you were supposed to be the pessimist in this relationship.” 

Derek huffed a small laugh. 

“You should get some more sleep. You can talk to your dad in the morning. You shoul-”

“Tell him. Yeah, yeah.” Stiles sighed. “I don’t know if I want to, Derek. I don’t want to drag him into all of this. I don’t want him to be in any more danger than he already is.”

“I know.” Derek pulled away from Stiles and adjusts them so they are laying back against the bed.

Stiles thought that was the end of it but Derek spoke again.

“What if he runs into something supernatural and doesn’t know it? Wouldn’t it be better if he was able to recognize the threat and deal with it properly?”

Derek had a point but Stiles still didn’t like it. 

“He wouldn’t approve of me dating a werewolf.” Stiles muttered sourly. 

Derek’s body tense for a moment before Derek dragged Stiles back closer to himself. Derek was now spooning Stiles and Stiles didn’t mind. It made him feel safe and warm. 

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” Derek mumbled tiredly against Stiles’ shoulder. 


	31. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles didn’t talk to his father about werewolves. That isn’t to say he didn’t try, because he did. Maybe not as hard as he should have, but Stiles wasn’t even really ready to have the conversation anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry! I haven't posted in a while and I'm upset with myself that I haven't. This chapter has been done for a while but I hadn't found the time to post it until now. Next chapter will probably be late as well. Let me know what you think! <3

Stiles didn’t talk to his father about werewolves. That isn’t to say he didn’t try, because he did. Maybe not as hard as he should have, but Stiles wasn’t even really ready to have the conversation anyway. 

Stiles had woken up still wrapped in Derek’s blankets but alone. He could hear the rustling in the kitchen but his body protested against any thought of getting up and investigating. His head thumped aggressively like he had spent the night drinking. Stiles groaned and pulled the blanket over his head, curling into the fetal position under the blanket. 

Stiles must have dozed for a few moments because the next thing he knew, the blanket was being removed from over his head and Derek was handing him some advil and water. Stiles downed it quickly before collapsing back against the bed, reaching to pull the blanket back up.. 

Derek tsked and pulled the blanket from Stiles grasp. 

“Up.”

Stiles whined. What happened to the nice Derek from last night? 

“Shower.” When Stiles didn’t move, Derek sighed and nudged Stiles’ leg. 

“Come on. It will help.” Derek tried again. 

Stiles verbally protested, making noises and whining, but let Derek help him to his feet. 

Derek guided him toward the bathroom while Stiles finally managed to open his eyes and relearn how to walk. 

“I don’t have clothes.” Stiles sighed as they neared the bathroom door. 

“You can wear some of mine.” 

Stiles didn’t protest. Why would he? He liked the way Derek smelled. Besides, it meant something that Derek was even offering his clothes. Scent and all that. 

Derek left him in the bathroom and Stiles got undressed. He caught the sight of himself in the reflection and was immediately thankful for Derek’s suggestion of a shower. Stiles was a mess. He had smudges of dirt all over his face and skin. He was also pretty sure he had pieces of nature resting in his slowly-growing hair. Stiles sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he leaned toward the mirror. 

Finally, after spending a few moments trying to figure out how the shower even worked, Stiles settled under the warm cascading water. Stiles just stood under the water for a few peaceful moments before examining Derek’s shampoo and soap collection. There was nothing with overly strong scents. Stiles hadn’t actually thought about how soap smells actually affected werewolf senses. Should he buy scentless stuff? Did his current soap selection bother the wolves?

Stiles filed the thought away for later.

Stiles was in the middle of shampooing his hair when someone bust into the bathroom. Stiles startled, pulling the curtain back just enough to see the intruder without showing them too much of his skin. 

“Hey, stranger.” Erica, her beautiful blonde waves and tight clothes, stood inside the bathroom leaning back against the now closed door. 

Stiles raised an eyebrow, only to flinch at the sudden pain in his eye. Stiles ducked back into the shower to wash the soap out of his eye and his hair. Erica wasted no time to talk. 

“Derek said you needed clothes. I volunteered to bring them to you.” 

Stiles couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped his lips. From what he gathered from the time he had gotten to know her, Erica didn’t do anything out of her way without an ulterior matter. Unless it was for her pack. 

Stiles peaked out from behind the shower curtain once again. He eyed her suspiciously after locating the clothes on the bathroom sink counter. Erica was still here after dropping it off after all. 

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Erica grins gleefully. Her face softened a moment later, suddenly turning very serious. “I’m glad you’re okay, Stiles. We were freaking out when you disappeared. Although Jackson was more worried about his precious porsche.” 

Stiles was slightly taken aback by her admission. Not about Jackson. Screw Jackson. Stiles felt terrible about whatever happened, he probably would for a really long time, but Erica had been worried about him; and they hardly knew each other. 

Erica’s eyes snapped up to his, glaring him down. 

“Don’t you ever do that again. I don’t know what happened, Derek won’t tell us anything, but it wasn’t okay to do that. At all.” 

Stiles’ mouth gaped a little, his voice lagging behind in response. “I’m sorry.” 

What else was he supposed to say? 

Erica eyed him skeptically before giving him an accepting nod. 

Milliseconds after she nodded, a fist pounded against the door behind Erica. 

“Erica! What the hell are you doing!” 

Stiles couldn’t really tell who it was, the speaker’s voice was somewhat muffled. Stiles watched as Erica rolled her eyes and eased herself off the door, opening it and letting it swing open. Stiles was hit with a sudden chill from the outside air. He shivered but continued to watch as the events unfolded.

An angry Derek stood on the other side of the door. Erica raised her hands in surrender and stepped around Derek to leave the bathroom. 

“We were just talking.” Erica said innocently before walking off, not even casting a glance in Stiles’ direction.

Derek and Stiles locked eyes after Erica made her exit. Derek’s face softened and Stiles swore the other man was blushing. 

“Sorry.” Derek mumbled as he moved to close the door. 

“Hey! Derek?”

Derek paused, raising an eyebrow in question. 

“Can I have a towel?” 

Stiles felt much more refreshed after the shower. It also helped that Derek’s clothes were extremely soft and comfortable. Stiles was actually contemplating never giving the shirt back. Derek wouldn't miss it, Stiles reasoned, after all the man had like five of the same shirt. 

As soon as Stiles was dressed and out of the shower, Derek put a pile of food in front of Stiles. Most of the pack was there too, curious eyes watching and waiting to hear about what happened. Malia, Erica, Boyd, Lydia, Scott, Isaac.

Jackson wasn’t there, probably Lydia’s doing, Stiles would have to thank her later. Peter wasn’t there either, but Stiles was sure he was lurking about somewhere close. 

Derek didn't let the pack ask a single question about what had happened until Stiles had finished eating. 

“So?” Scott asked, eyebrows raised. 

Stiles didn’t need Scott to clarify what he meant. He knew Scott was asking about what happened on campus, why Stiles disappeared. Stiles just didn’t know how to start. It all sounded so stupid in his head. Yes, he knew he was friends with werewolves, hell, he was in a relationship with one. That didn’t change the fact that it all sounded ridiculous. 

Werewolves. Kanima. Banshee. Kitsune. Nogitsune. All of these things weren’t supposed to exist; at least he wasn’t supposed to know they existed. How do you go about explaining something to someone that you yourself didn’t understand? 

“Stiles?” Lydia asked softly. 

Stiles glanced up, realizing he must have zoned out. Fear raced through Stiles at the realization that he had in fact zoned out. A quick glance around, making sure everyone was still standing relatively close to where he last remembered, their clothes still the same. 

A strong hand wrapped itself around his arm, thumb moving sideways in a comforting moment. Stiles glanced over at Derek. The older man seemed to sense Stiles’ worry, and shook his head softly. Stiles was fine. It was the same conversation. The same place. The same people. 

Stiles turned back to Lydia and the rest of the group. Their eyes watched them warily, worry and confusion clear in their expression. Scott’s eyes seemed to be glued to Derek’s subtle touching. A moment later Scott’s eyes widened. Stiles watched as Scott attempted to quickly school his expression. Stiles almost wanted to laugh.

Instead, Stiles turned back to Lydia. Unsure how to start, he opened and closed his mouth a couple times. Eventually he turned back to Derek, a small plead for help starting the conversation. Derek sighed but turned back to the group, his hand moving to run small circles on Stiles’ back as he spoke. 

“We know Matt was working with the Nogitsune.” Derek started. “I’m pretty sure we know how their relationship worked.”

Stiles nodded as Derek spoke. It was a good way to start. 

“What does this have to do with Stiles?” Scott asked, his focus back at the topic at hand and not on Derek’s and Stiles’ relationship. 

“The Nogitsune is a dark spirit that feeds off pain and misery. Kira mentioned it being able to possess people.” Derek seemed to ignore Scott’s question.

Stiles focused on the reactions of the group. Everyone was watching Derek, everyone but Lydia. Her eyes were glued to Stiles, a thoughtful scowl playing on her features. 

“The Nogitsune had possessed Matt, promised him power and revenge or whatever the hell he wanted. When the Nogitsune was done with Matt, it killed him,” Derek locked eyes with Stiles as he said this. As if to emphasize Stiles wasn’t at fault. “And it moved onto another target.” 

The group was silent when Derek finished. Eyes shifted from Derek to Stiles. It was Lydia who spoke first. 

“And it wants Stiles.” 

“We think so.” It’s the first thing Stiles said since Derek started talking. 

“Why?”

“Why what, Scott? Why do we think so or why would it pick me? Because I would love to know the answer to the latter.” 

No one made any additional comments so Stiles continued. 

“I’m losing time. I’m hallucinating. I can’t sleep at night. And when I do I wake up screaming or about to have a panic attack. I’m paranoid. More than usual at least. I’m in a constant state of confusion. These are all symptoms of frontotemporal dementia. My mother died from it.” 

Stiles felt Derek’s hand hesitate on his back before continuing the comforting motion. He continued. 

“I don’t have it- I can’t-” Stiles took a breath. “I’m either suffering the effects of having a supernatural spirit haunting my ass or I’m going crazy.” Stiles went on to tell them about the night of the accident. What he saw, what he did. He told them the things Matt told him. They nodded and listened, interjecting the occasional question. 

It felt like a weight being lifted off his chest. The feeling didn’t last long. 

“The Oni.” Scott said. 

Such a simple sentence ruined the moment of relief for Stiles. He had forgotten about Kira telling him about the Oni. 

“We thought, maybe, you had been attacked by the Nogitsune. Kira couldn’t persuade her mother to hold off any longer. Her mom released them yesterday morning.” Scott tilted his head to show Stiles the backward five tattooed behind his ear. “It means we aren’t possessed. They won’t harm anyone who isn’t.” 

“I’m gonna die.” Stiles blurted. 

“You’re not gonna die.” Lydia said confidently. 

“Yeah? What the hell are we supposed to do about an invincible army of supernatural spirits?” 

Scott gave him a small look that read, “how do you know that?” 

“Kira called me. The day I disappeared from campus. She told me about the Oni.” 

“So what the hell are we supposed to do?” Malia asked. “He is a walking time bomb.”

“Malia!” Derek snapped, his hand moving from Stiles’ back so he could cross his arms. 

The lack of contact made Stiles feel a bit cold and disconnected from the pack.  

Stiles just laughed. She was right. He had no idea when or if he would lose time again. He had no control over his actions when he did. He wasn’t even sure what else the Nogitsune had done 

“She’s right.” Stiles finally managed to muster. He sounded defeated, even to his own ears. “You can’t even be sure it’s me at any given moment.” He eyed the group carefully as he spoke, watching how some tensed and instinctively leaned away from him. He could feel Derek glaring at him. Turning to look at the older man only confirmed it. It wasn’t a “You may or may not be Stiles” glare, but a “Why the hell did you say that?” glare. Stiles could only shrug in response. 

“You can’t trust me.” Stiles emphasised. “What happened on campus was me-”

“The Nogitsune.” Derek corrected. 

Stiles rolled his eyes. He loved how Derek was trying to redirect the blame, trying to help clear Stiles’ conscience. But Stiles was trying to make a point. 

“What I did, stealing Jackson’s porsche- What happened to that by the way?” Stiles asked suddenly. Derek hadn’t told him and he had been too tired to asked before. Now he was curious. What had he done to Jackson’s car? 

No one made the first effort to tell him. Eventually Lydia sighed, rolled her eyes and spoke. 

“You smashed a couple windows, dented the bumper, and somehow managed to mess up his tire alignment. He reported it stolen- Not by you. Don’t worry. His insurance will handle the damages.”

“All while my dad and his department are looking for the person- which happens to be me- who stole it.” Stiles sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Great. I’m gonna go to jail now too.” 

“You can’t go to jail if you're dead.” 

Stiles turned to Isaac, kind of shocked at his input. Isaac, Stiles assumed, was referring to when Stiles had made the comment about being killed by the Oni. Stiles couldn’t help the small smile at Isaac’s attempt to lighten the mood a bit. Stiles seemed to be the only one to get it because Erica punched Isaac in the arm for the comment and Derek scowled. 

“You aren’t dying and you aren’t going to jail.” Derek growled, somehow managing to tighten his crossed arms closer to himself. 

“Can we stop talking about Stiles dying and instead find a way to keep him alive please? Can we find a way to get rid of the Nogitsune?” 

Stiles wanted to give Scott a hug. He wanted his hug his friend but didn’t think now was the best time. 

“Do you really think I should be around when you talk about this?” Stiles couldn’t help but ask. His point from earlier still stood. He was a liability. He couldn’t be trusted. It hurt, it did. He wanted to cry and yell. He had finally gotten closer with the pack. They finally trusted him and he trusted them. Now, now he didn’t even trust himself. 

“I can try to work it from my end, but you guys cannot tell me anything you find.”

“But-”

“I’m serious, Scott.”

“Alright.” 

Stiles nodded. 

“Good. Now that that is out in the open-” Stiles didn’t get a chance to finish before Lydia had flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight hug. He awkwardly slipped off the stool he was sat on, still reciprocating the hug as he did. He leaned into her touch, feeling comforted by it. He knew she blamed herself for part of his predicament. She had dreamt about him after all. She had the pack search for him and make themselves known. He knew she blamed herself because the thought of blaming her had crossed his mind. Of course he didn’t actually think or believe that. He didn’t want her to either. 

“None of this is your fault.” He whispered into her ear as he hugged her. 

Her body jerked slightly as she struggled to hold back a sob. Stiles ran his hand up and down her back in an attempt to soothe her. 

The pack sort of dispersed themselves as Stiles held Lydia. Derek stuck around, messing with the coffee machine in the kitchen but still close by. When Lydia composed herself, Stiles gave her a light kiss on the head. It was more instinctual and impulsive than anything else but she didn’t seem bothered by it at all. Stiles figure because she was hanging around a bunch of werewolves who thought touch and smell were very important things. 

Lydia gave him another hug before disappearing out the door. Stiles wondered if she was off to bury herself in research. It was what he would do. 

For every single one of them, Stiles realized. If they asked it of him, he would be there to help. It was odd feeling it reciprocated. These people he was surrounded by were doing what they could to help and protect him. 

Derek cleared his throat behind him, causing Stiles to turn around with a raised eyebrow. Derek waved a cellphone in the air; Stiles’ cellphone to be specific. 

“You should call your dad.” Derek said as he handed Stiles his phone back. 

Stiles walked up to Derek and took it thankfully. Having his phone back made him very aware of how he felt without it. 

Stiles sighed but dialed his father’s number. It rang twice before Stiles hung up. 

“What?” Derek asked when Stiles turned back to him. Concern was obvious in his tone. 

“My leg doesn’t hurt.” 

Derek’s eyes went wide and he took a step toward Stiles. 

“It hurt this morning, Derek.”

Stiles didn’t step away from the older man when he got closer. 

“Do you think-”

“No.” Derek answered before Stiles could finish his sentence. 

“It’s powerful, Derek.”

“Not that powerful.”

“And you know that how?” Stiles asked lightheartedly. 

Derek’s expression told him exactly what he thought. Derek didn’t know if it wasn’t that powerful. He was being hopeful. He was trying to convince Stiles they could fight it. 

“What do we do?” Stiles asked. 

“Deaton.” 

“The man you don’t trust?” 

Derek gave Stiles a half-shrug in response. 

“Great. And you want to tell him… What exactly?”

Derek stared at Stiles, and Stiles raised his eyebrows; his question hung in the air as he waited for Derek to respond. 

“The truth.”

“Seriously? It took me how long to get you guys to start talking to me and telling me the truth and you want to go and just spill it all to this guy?”

“He knows more than he lets on.”

“And that somehow make you want to trust him?” Stiles took a step away from Derek. The older man didn’t reach for him as he did. Stiles didn’t know if he was glad or upset by the lack of the gesture. 

“I don’t trust him.”

“Then why do you want to tell him?” 

“He might be able to help.” Derek made a move to step forward but aborted the movement and instead crossed his arms over his chest. “Scott trusts him.” 

Stiles bit his bottom lip, and his leg bounced up and down without him realizing it. 

“I haven’t even told my dad about this all yet.”

Derek rolled his eyes and Stiles glared. 

“I have been trying to get you to talk to him.” 

“I know.” 

“You were supposed to call him-”

“I know.”

“Stiles.”

“Shut up. I know. I just- I don’t know what to say. I don’t think he will even believe me.”

This time Derek did step closer to Stiles and Stiles let him. He let Derek pull him into a loose hug. Stiles breathed in Derek’s smell as Derek hugged him. It was comforting, familiar. 

“You’re his son. It might take a bit of persuading, but he will believe you. He loves you.”

“Just because he loves me doesn't mean he will believe me.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“My mom would.” Stiles mumbled into Derek’s shirt. “She would have believed me.”

They stood in silence, just hugging, until Derek spoke. 

“I’ll go with you to talk to him. I can show him.” 

Stiles knew what Derek was offering. He was offering to shift in front of a complete stranger. Stiles held onto Derek just a little bit tighter. 

“What the hell am I supposed to tell him? ‘Yeah, dad. Werewolves exist. No not vampires too. I don’t know why. Oh, and I’m possessed by an evil fox spirit. Yeah, remember Matt? I killed him.’ Jesus, Derek. What the hell is my life?” 

Derek’s hand moved in a comforting motion on Stiles’ back as he spoke and even after he fell silent, a small choked-back sob almost escaping Stiles’ throat. 

“Just tell him a little bit at a time. Let him process-”

Stiles’ phone vibrated in his hand, cutting Derek off. They pulled apart just enough so Stiles could check his phone. 

“It’s my dad.”

“Answer it.” 

Stiles sighed before answering his phone. It only took him a second to remember that with Derek’s werewolf hearing the older man could hear the entire conversation. He hoped neither of them said anything too embarrassing. 

“Hey, dad.”

‘Hey, kid. You tried calling earlier?’

“Yeah. I was just checking in with you.” Stiles paused and looked up at Derek. The older man gave him an encouraging nod. “I wanted to know if you were free for lunch?” 

‘Depends. You bringing food or are we going out to eat?’ 

Stiles chuckled. 

“I was thinking, maybe we meet at home and I’ll pick up some food?” 

‘Alright.’ His father paused for a moment. ‘You okay, son?’

“Yeah. I’m fine.” It was Stiles’ turn to pause. “Do you mind if I bring a friend?”

Stiles felt Derek tense slightly. Stiles didn’t look up at Derek, instead he kept his eyes glued to the floor. 

‘Yeah. Sure. Someone I know?”

“Not really.”

‘Okay. I’ll see you then.’

“Yeah. Love you, dad.”

‘You too, kid.’ 

Stiles ended the call and pressed his phone to his lips in thought. He could do this. Derek would be there. It would be fine. What was the worst thing that could happen? 

Actually. His dad did have a gun. He could shoot Derek. But Derek would just heal and his claim would only be proven more. 

This wasn’t something he could talk to his father over the phone. This had to be a face to face conversation. They would do it this afternoon. 

It would be fine. Stiles continued to reassure himself. 


	32. The Supernatural

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Stiles?”
> 
> Stiles’ eyes shot up to his father’s.
> 
> “The supernatural.” Derek spoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyyeee! Here is the chapter! Let me know what you think! Leave a comment and a kudos. Thank you guys so much for the support!!

Derek was as stoic as ever, maybe a little bit more glarey than usual, but Stiles didn’t blame him. He was about to introduce Derek to his father properly, but not as his boyfriend. He was introducing Derek as a werewolf. A werewolf who he just happened to be dating. 

He really hoped his dad wasn’t going to shoot Derek. 

Derek drove. Stiles had every intention of faking his injury around his father. He may be ready to tell his father about werewolves but he wasn’t ready to bring a Nogitsune into the fold. Baby steps. 

They picked up some food from the Sheriff’s favorite restraunt, something greasy and bribe-worthy, before heading to the Stilinski household. They arrived before Stiles’ father so Stiles used his key to unlock the door and let them in. Derek followed Stiles to the kitchen where he put down the food. 

“Do you want a water?” Stiles asked as he reached into the fridge for a water himself. 

“No thanks.” 

Stiles glanced over at Derek. The older man was looking around at Stiles’ home. It was recently cleaned, Stiles noticed. Stiles followed Derek’s line of sight to the picture frames on the side-table in the living room. 

“My mom.” Stiles spoke. He cleared his throat when it came out weaker than he had meant. 

“She’s beautiful.” Derek said solemnly. 

Stiles’ lips curved into a small smile. He agreed. His mother had been beautiful. 

“Come on, I’ll give you a quick tour.” 

Derek nodded and followed Stiles around the house obediently. 

“And this is my room.” Stiles said as he swung the door open to the last room on his tour. Derek hesitated before following him into the room. Stiles could only assume it was a territorial thing. The room had to smell of Stiles; including moments of Stiles in all of his glory. Stiles flushed with embarrassment at the thought. How many times had he jacked off to the thought of Derek since they started their relationship? Stiles wasn’t even sure at this point. 

Stiles turned to face Derek. The other man swept his eyes around the room before focussing on Stiles. They stared at each other for a few moments, unmoving, until Stiles stepped forward. He took the front of Derek’s shirt in his hands and pulled the man toward himself. Derek moved forward easily as if he had been thinking the same thing as Stiles.         

Derek cupped the side of Stiles’ head and pulled him into a kiss. Stiles’ hands were left trapped at his sides, still clinging to Derek’s shirt. Stiles loved kissing Derek. They weren’t the overly wet and obnoxious french-kisses that movies and tv shows over romanticised. Stiles was overly sensitive to Derek’s touch. He knew the moment Derek’s free hand shifted to his hips, he could feel the small cloth particles of his shirt move to accommodate. He knew the second a part of his shirt was lifted from his skin and Derek’s hand replaced it. Stiles relaxed into the touch. It was one of familiarity; the older man’s hands were strong and warm against his skin. 

Neither of them really broke apart for anything longer than a few seconds in order to catch their breath. Stiles found that he had slipped his hands under Derek’s shirt in response to Derek’s hand. 

Stiles had seen Derek shirtless; Stiles had also felt Derek up over his shirt. Now that his hands were pressed against his boyfriend's - that word still felt a bit foreign to him- skin, he didn’t want to remove them. Instead, he explored. He couldn’t explore with his eyes but he could certainly do it with his hands. 

Stiles’ nails raked against the small of Derek’s back in response to an especially deep kiss. Derek retaliated with a small growl and the movement of their bodies. Derek had them down on Stiles’ bed, Derek laying above him with some room between their chests, in a matter of milliseconds. Stiles figured it was probably for the best that there was a bit of space between their bodies, at least that was what the logical part of his brain was thinking. The other part of him, the fuck-it part of his brain was screaming at him to close the distance. 

Stiles behaved. 

They continued to make out, hands sliding against one another’s bareskin. Derek pulled away from Stiles’ mouth and trailed small kisses down the human’s chin and neck. Stiles sucked in a breath at the sensation traveling through his body. He knew he had a weird thing about his neck; any foreplay with his neck made him weak at the knees. 

Stiles instinctively tilted his head, giving Derek better access. 

Stiles listened as Derek’s breath hitched. It took him a moment to remember what the action meant to a werewolf. Submission. Trust. 

Derek buried his face in the crook of Stiles’ neck, the scruff of his beard dragged and scratching at the sensitive skin there. Derek nibbled and kissed at the skin there making Stiles shiver underneath him. 

Derek pulled back suddenly, lifting his head and looking towards the door. 

“You’re dad’s here.” It was a very-matter-of-fact tone. 

Stiles had hoped for more of a disappointed one. The lack of one made his mind go crazy with thoughts of inadequacy and worry. 

Derek’s head snapped back to Stiles and his face softened, leaning in for another kiss before pushing himself up off of Stiles and toward the door. 

Stiles sighed before getting up and straightening himself out. The younger man caught Derek’s eyes scanning him up and down.

“What?” Stiles asked.

Derek gave him a cocky smirk. 

“You’re a mess.” 

Stiles glanced up and down at himself. He didn’t think he looked that bad. His shirt was a bit wrinkled and maybe he had been about to sport a boner but the mood for that had been killed. Stiles ran his hand through his hair. Now that, that was a mess. His hair was jutting out in all directions. Stiles quickly ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tame it. He cursed Derek for his natural ability to look gorgeous at all times. 

Derek followed Stiles back out to the kitchen just in time to greet his father at the door. 

“Welcome home!” Stiles smiled as the older Stilinski stepped over the threshold. 

Noah barely made it a few feet before Stiles had pulled his father into a tight hug. Stiles didn’t care if it seemed strange or a bit out of character. After the last couple of days, he just wanted to hug his dad. His father reciprocated the hug easily, although Stiles could hear the worry in his voice when he spoke.

“Hey, kid. You alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” Stiles said as he pulled back from the hug. 

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” Stiles cleared his throat after taking a step back. He was anxious and wanted to get this over with. “Dad, this is Derek Hale.” 

Stiles watched his father’s reactions. The older Stilinski’s face remained relatively impassive except the slight raise of his eyebrows. Stiles had asked about the Hale fire during the first few weeks of knowing the pack.

“Food. Then we will talk. I feel like I’m about to lose five years of my life.” The older Stilinski sighed and made his way toward the kitchen where the food was placed. Stiles motions for Derek to follow them and he does. The three of them are seated in the kitchen their food in front of them when Noah finally speaks. He swallowed a bit of his food before turning to Derek. 

“He must be serious if he is bringing you home to meet me.”

Stiles choked on his soda, spewing the carbonated liquid across the table. 

“Dad.”

“What? You don’t. The last girl you brought home was your friend Heather.”

Stiles glanced between his father and Derek. Derek remained relatively passive, although Stiles noticed the difference in how Derek held himself. 

“That wasn’t what lunch was supposed to be about.” Stiles finally managed. 

“It wasn’t?” Noah Stilinski glanced between the two men. “But you don’t deny it? You two are dating, right? I’m not just getting old and misreading things?” 

Stiles opened and closed his mouth twice. It was clear that Derek wasn’t going to be of any help. 

“Dad. Focus. Look, I needed to talk to you about something and I needed him here to show it to you.” 

The Sheriff sat leaned back in his seat, watching the two men across from him with confusion, worry, and mix of a few other troubling emotions. 

“Alright. Explain.”

No one dared to take a bite as Stiles spoke. The situation was a high-stress one. 

“Okay. Okay, so you know the sudden spike in unexplained events and unsolved crimes-”

“I don’t need a performance review, Stiles.” His father snapped. 

“No, I know. I’m just saying, you don’t know all the facts. You don’t know all the facts because you can only see half the board.” Stiles paused, waiting to see if his father understood him. The older Stilinski only raised an eyebrow in response. 

“Imagine it’s like chess. Right? You have the board, but you can only see your pieces. There is an entire other side of the board that you can’t see; that you can’t control.” 

“And what are you proposing the other side of this board is?” 

Stiles gulped. The words felt heavy on his tongue. He wasn’t sure he would be able to make himself say the words. He was terrified of what his father would think, of how the older man would react. Stiles’ throat felt dry. He gulped, trying to loosen the words from his lips. 

He had thought it before and here he was thinking it again; his mother would believe him. No doubt. At least she would have before the disease had started to really claim her mind. She would have believed him. 

“Stiles?” 

Stiles’ eyes shot up to his father’s. 

“The supernatural.” Derek spoke.

Stiles was suddenly very aware of the beating of his own heart. What was that called again? Rubatosis. Stiles had spent an entire night looking up the words for strange things and feelings at point. 

“The what?”

Stiles’ mind traveled back to the situation before him. 

“It’s true. Dad. You have to believe me. Werewolves, Banshees, the whole deal. Their real.” 

Stiles’ father’s eyes moved from Stiles to Derek and back again. 

“You have got to be kidding me.” 

“I’m not.” Derek’s voice came out strained. 

Stiles wondered how hard this was for Derek. He had been called out as Stiles boyfriend as soon as his father walked through the door. That hadn’t been part of the plan. Now he had to expose himself and his pack to Stiles’ father. 

“We are completely serious, dad. I wouldn’t even know how to fake any of this.”

“Alright. So show me. Show me the facts, give me the proof. I’ve raised you better than to just believe things from word of mouth, Stiles.” 

Stiles felt rather sheepish under his father’s gaze. It didn’t matter that Stiles had the proof, that Derek was there as proof, he felt like he had somehow disappointed his father. 

“Derek?” Stiles asked quietly.

Derek sighed before getting up from his chair. He took a few steps back, probably to put some distance between himself and the Sheriff’s gun. 

“Just don’t shoot me.” 

“Why would-”

Derek was a furry face with sharp teeth and claws in a matter of seconds. Stiles would always be amazed by the ease in which Derek changed. Derek had closed his beautiful hazel eyes and opened them to reveal the red glow of an Alpha. Stiles had seen this part of Derek, on a few occasions. It made him wonder what Derek’s full shift looked like. Scott had mentioned it before. Derek was the only one who could do it. Malia had told him once that she used to be able to do it but didn’t know how to control it. 

Stiles’ father was on his feet almost as quickly as Derek had shifted, his hand on the gun holster at his hip. Derek raised his hands up in surrender as a precaution, trying to come off as nonthreatening as possible. 

“This can’t be real.” His father muttered. “Werewolves, Stiles? Really? Only you. Only you would get yourself caught up in something like this.” His father paused, his hand still resting on his holster. “This is real, right? You didn’t just slip something into my food?”

“Dad! Why the hell would I do something like that?”

Derek shifted back but remained where he stood. Stiles could see the hesitance in his eyes. If he moved closer to either one of them there was a chance Stiles’ father would pull his gun. So Stiles took the initiative. He stood and walked over to stand by Derek’s side. 

“Stiles-”

“He isn’t going to hurt anyone.”

“You just told me they were the reason for the unsolved cases and deaths in town, Stiles!”

Stiles instantly thought of Matt. How would his father feel about the knowledge that it was Stiles who killed him? What would his father think of him then?

“I never said it was Derek. I said it was supernatural. Derek and his pack wouldn’t do that.” Stiles settled on saying. 

“A pack? Stiles, what the hell have you gotten into?” 

Stiles shrugged. 

“Mom would have believed me.” Stiles didn’t know why he said it. It didn’t really matter right now. His father would be dense if he didn’t believe them now, and his father wasn’t dense. 

Noah Stilinski’s face softened, and his hand moved from the gun. He held his arms open for Stiles and Stiles obliged. He moved into the hug and sagged with relief when his father spoke. 

“I believe you, kid. I do. I wish it wasn’t real, it would make thing so much less complicated but it is what it is. It may take me some time to adjust and you have a lot of explaining to do, don’t think you are getting off the hook that easy.”

“Thank you for believing.” 

“You will have to explain the chess analogy a bit better next time though.”

“Yes, sir.” 

They separated and the Sheriff took another look between Stiles and Derek.

“You’re dating a werewolf? Really?” 

“Dad.” Stiles couldn’t help the small chuckle that left his lips. He hadn’t exactly talked to his father about his interest in guys but he wasn’t surprised his father picked up on it. His father was the Sheriff afterall. 

“Did you know, you know,” Noah waved his hand in a small circular motion as he spoke. “Before you started dating him?”

Stiles still hadn’t vocally confirmed they were dating and neither had Derek. Stiles didn’t want to be the first one to do so either in case it wasn’t what Derek wanted. 

“I knew before I had even met him.” 

“Good. I mean, that’s good I guess.”

“Dad? How about we sit down?” 

Stiles and his father sat back down but Derek continued to stand. Stiles spent the rest of his father’s lunch talking about the supernatural. He did his best explain what he knew without revealing every one in Derek’s pack. He owed the Alpha at least that much. He explained to his father the dream the Banshee had about him and how that was the reason he became involved. He didn’t tell his father the dream was of him dying, he danced around that part. He told himself it was because he didn’t want to worry his dad, he wasn’t actually sure if that was the real reason. 

“Alright. I have to get back to work. I expect you home for dinner so we can finish this conversation.” 

Stiles nodded and walked his father to the door. He father spared one last glance in Derek’s direction before leaving. 

“That could have been worse.” Stiles said as he sat back down at the table where his almost-untouched food was. He nibbled on a fry. “You could have been shot.” Stiles didn’t know why he said that. 

“Stiles.”

“Sorry.”

“You didn’t tell him about the Nogitsune.”

“I didn’t see an opportunity.”

“You’re avoiding it.” 

“I had thirty minutes to explain to him and convince him that you and your pack were dangerous. I think that’s a little more important than a little possession.” 

“You’re scared.” 

It wasn’t a question. 

Stiles forced himself to take another bite of his burger. It gave him a reason not to respond. 

“Stiles. He needs to know. You’re life is in danger. His life could be in danger. You need to tell him.”

“I know! Okay! I know. I just don’t know how to say it. It all sounds so stupid in my head.”  

“You need to tell him tonight.”

“I will.” Stiles took another bite of his burger. “You gonna stand there all afternoon or are you gonna finish eating?” 

Derek joined him at the table and they ate in silence. Stiles didn’t know what to say. He was busy thinking about the conversation he had with his father. What was his father thinking about right now? The ways to demand that Stiles separate himself from the pack? 

Drowning in his own thoughts, Stiles didn’t notice when Derek’s phone rang nor did he noticed when the older man answered it. He wasn’t paying enough attention to understand what Derek had said before hanging up. It wasn’t until Derek stood up that Stiles’ attention snapped back to the present. 

“I have to go. Will you be alright here alone?” 

Stiles nodded, unable to find his voice. Derek didn’t want to drag Stiles around anymore. Maybe the interaction between him and Stiles’ father had been more upsetting then he let on. Derek hesitated momentarily before he turned to leave. 

With both his father and Derek gone, Stiles made his way up to his room. He collapsed onto his bed with an “oomph” and groaned into his pillow. He hadn’t realized how much energy the day had drained from him until he was laying in his bed. Stiles talked himself into dozing for half an hour.

When Stiles awoke he was laying on a cold tile floor. He shot up off the floor, eyes opening and taking in the familiar sight. The Nemeton sat a few feet away, the Nogitsune sitting cross-legged on one side tossing a small white stone up in the air and catching it repeatedly. 

Stiles approached the board slowly. The Nogitsune’s eyes tracked his movements until they were both sitting cross-legged across from each other. Stiles studied the game. There were more black pieces on the board than he remembered being there before. 

“The game continues even when you are not here, Stiles.” The creature spoke. 

Stiles moved his twentieth piece, expanding his territory. The Nogitsune retaliated by threatening one of Stiles’ stones with capture. 

“They are afraid of you, Stiles.” 

The way the creature drags out the “s” sends an uncomfortable shiver down Stiles’ spine. 

“Your move.” Stiles managed to speak calmly despite the uncomfortable feeling that had settled in his gut. 

“I’ve already made my move.”

Stiles’ breath stuttered as he stared at the board. The Nogitsune had indeed made its move already, taking one of Stiles’ piece with it. 

“Careful, Stiles. You lose a part of yourself every time I take a piece off the board.”

“What do you want?”

“I’ve already told you.”

“Go away.”

“If you insist.” 

Stiles hadn’t actually been expecting that to be the creature’s response. It disappeared in a blink-of-an-eye, leaving Stiles all alone and with the board. Stiles was relieved, but only for a moment. If the creature wasn’t there with him, then where was it? 

Stiles let out a yell and shoved the board off the side of the Nemeton. A low chuckled echoed through the large, empty, white room.

Stiles distractedly looked around for the voice to no avail. Looking back down at the Nemeton, the game board was back in its original place. All the pieces were back in place, undisturbed by Stiles’ outraged reaction, except for one. Another white piece had been removed from the board. The white piece remained on the floor where the board had been thrown. 

If Stiles thought about it, he could feel the disconnect from his body. He could feel the Nogitsune toying with his head. He didn’t know how long he sat there, staring at the board. 

“Stiles-” 

Stiles blinked and he was back home, back in his bed, but not really. He felt like a prisoner in his own mind. He was there, seeing through his own eyes, but unable to control his body. Unable to control his voice. 

Stiles-not-Stiles was standing beside a table in a library. Lydia was sitting in one of the chairs, a book in her lap. 

“Lydia,” He heard himself say. “I need your help.”

Lydia’s eyes flicked as they searched Stiles’ face. Stiles willed her to see something, anything that would prove the person she was talking to wasn’t him. 

“What do you need?” 


	33. Connected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We are connected. You and I. I cannot win if you are not here for me to beat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to cut this chapter in half. I'm sorry I haven't posted in a while! There will only be a couple more chapters after this. I think the last one will either be 35 or 36. We will see how that goes.   
> This chapter has a combination of a couple episodes of Teen Wolf ("Insatiable" and a couple others.)   
> In my version the Nogitsune doesn't become a separate entity form Stiles, they are still one person.   
> This chapter isn't Beta read so apologies for any errors.   
> Let me know what you think! <3

“Welcome to Camp Oak Creek, Lydia.”

“Stiles. What are we doing here?”

“I need your help, Lydia.”

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what you need. What do you want?”

There was a long pause as Stiles-not-Stiles stared at the abandoned historic site. Stiles felt his skin crawl with disgust. The Nogitsune was invading the one place Stiles had found comfort in, his mind. It was also harassing the people Stiles cared about. 

“Stiles?” Lydia called as his body moved away from her. 

She followed like a dutiful friend would; Stiles could hear the hollow echo of her heels against the ground as she walked a pace or so behind his body. 

The Nogitsune led her into one of the buildings and down a concrete hallway. 

“Stiles?”

The Nogitsune held out his hand to her and she timidly accepted. The creature helped her down the stairs and together they stood at the gated door at the bottom of the steps.

“What is it that you want?” Lydia asked again her voice trembling slightly. 

Stiles could see the curious light in her eyes piecing things slowly together. She pulled away from him now, pulling her arms close to her torso, wrapping an arm around herself as if she were cold and trying to preserve her body heat.

“More.” The Stiles-not-Stiles approached Lydia slowly, drawing out the silence.

“More what?” 

Stiles could see the exact moment Lydia figured it out. He whooped with joy. That was his girl. 

“You’re not Stiles.” 

The smug smile on Stiles-not-Stiles’ face grew.

“No.” The Nogitsune ran it’s eyes up and down Lydia’s frame, evaluating her before continuing. “The trickster stories are all about food, Lydia. Coyote, Raven, Fox. They're all hungry. I’m the same. I just crave something a little different. I eat what you feel.”

Stiles was freaking out. He didn’t like watching the Nogitsune getting close to Lydia and being unable to do anything about it. He yelled but his body remained silent. God, he wanted to punch himself in the face right now. He was putting Lydia in danger.

The Nogitsune brought its face right up against Lydia’s, making her shudder. Her body shook as she held back her sob.

“And I’m insatiable.”

The creature pulled back away from Lydia.

“I need you to scream.” It said when it was an outstretched-arms distance from her.

“What?” Lydia managed just barely above a whisper.

“Scream for me, Lydia.”

Stiles yelled her name, shouting, pleading for her to listen. She needed to run. To use her heels as a weapon and get the fuck out of there. Stiles said as much. He tried to. 

The creature’s arm shot out, it’s hand covering the majority of Lydia’s neck, and its body pressed her against the wall. “Scream for me, Banshee. Scream.”

“Never.” Lydia gasped out. 

The thing released Lydia’s throat and she fell to the ground, gasping. 

“Never say never, Lyds.”

“Don’t call me that. You aren’t Stiles.”

Stiles felt skeeved by the creature’s use of his nickname for her but simultaneously felt comforted by Lydia’s hate for the Nogitsune’s use of the word as well. 

“Maybe not completely. Not yet. Would you like to speak to him?” The creature took a step back from Lydia, hands up in a half-assed surrender. 

Stiles didn’t trust it; no way would it let him speak to her. The Nogitsune was a notorious trickster. It may not have complete control of Stiles, but it had enough. Stiles yelled for Lydia. He yelled for her to run, for her to hear him. Anything. Nothing came out. 

The Stiles-not-Stiles jerked around like a possessed person in television shows and fell to his knees. The creature whimpered and feigned heavy breathing. 

Stiles lashed out against his mental prison, still yelling for Lydia. Stiles hadn’t been expecting his voice to go through. He could feel the movement of his throat and tongue as the words came tumbling out. 

“Lydia! Run!”

“Stiles?” Lydia hesitated before crawling forward a bit. 

“No! Lydia, stay away. Run!”

“Stiles!” 

Stiles felt himself being pulled back to the white room. The last thing he saw himself doing was lunging toward Lydia and cackling. 

The Nogitsune got his wish. 

Lydia screamed. 

Stiles screamed with her. 

Stiles stared at the board sitting upon the Nemeton for at least two minutes before finally placing another white piece. This piece completed the atari and captured another black piece. 

He didn’t know how much time had passed. Here, in this white room, sometimes it felt like minutes and sometimes it felt like days. Time almost felt like a concept that drifted farther from his understanding the more he stared at the board and white walls of the vast and empty room.

Stiles hoped his friends came up with a plan, he hoped they would come to save Lydia, he hoped they find away to stop the Nogitsune. If they didn’t have a plan, Stiles hoped someone would be willing to kill him. Stiles didn’t want to die, but he would rather die than let the Nogitsune win. 

“You’re losing, Stiles.” The Nogitsune drawled. 

Maybe he was. Every time Stiles felt like he had finally caught up, the Nogitsune jumped ahead. 

“How does it feel? Are you hurting, Stiles?” The thing breathed out a husky sigh. “I can taste it. Your fear. Your pain. Just give in, Stiles.” 

“Why are you so eager for me to give up? If you’re winning it’s only a matter of time.” Stiles lifted his head up from the board to stare down the creature torturing him. “What are you missing? What is it that you don’t have yet? You don’t have it, which means there is a chance I could still beat you.”

The Nogitsune slowly approached the board and placed another piece; a move that sacrificed another one of his pieces. Stiles took advantage of the movement and seized the black piece by completing the next atari. 

“I have everything I need.” The Nogitsune said as it stood. “I want more.” The creature tilted its head and smiled. “You’re friends are here to save you, Stiles. Want to say hi?” 

Stiles blinked and in a matter of milliseconds he stood beside Lydia in a small room. One second they were alone, the next they were surrounded by masked cloaked figures. These new monsters held swords at the ready to attack. 

Lydia, somehow looking just as beautiful as she looked terrified, removed herself from his side and pressed up against the wall behind the intruders. 

Stiles felt himself remove a small black blade from his pocket. 

“What is that?” Stiles found himself asking the Nogitsune. 

“A tail.” 

The Nogitsune snapped the tail in half releasing a small puff of smoke. 

“The Oni have a new master now.” Stiles heard his voice speak. 

The Nogitsune turned from Lydia and the Oni followed him. They made their way halfway up the stairs before the Nogitsune turned back to Lydia. 

“Stay.” It instructed before continuing its journey to the outside. 

Stiles found himself and the Nogitsune, flanked by the Oni, standing in a courtyard. He heard a familiar voice, Isaac’s, speak. 

“What does it mean?”

“It means there has been a change in ownership.” Stiles heard his voice announce. 

The group that stood before him turned to face them. Each of their expressions harboring some similar traits. Fear. Worry. 

“Now they belong to me.” 

The Oni drew their swords as if verbally commanded to do so. 

Stiles studied the familiar faces. Kira, Scott, Isaac, Allison, Malia, Derek, Jackson, Erica, Boyd, his father. There was also a woman he didn’t recognize himself, but the Nogitsune seemed to. She looked a lot like Kira. The entire group was there, save for Peter but he didn’t really count, and they looked like they were ready for a fight. 

There was a pause after the Nogistune, the cool night air filled by silence. Stiles wondered if the werewolves of the group were listening to his heartbeat, or if they could tell something was different just by his smell; if they could tell he was still there. 

“Stiles!” Noah Stilinski called out to him. The man pulled away from the crowd and stared at Stiles. “Please, son. If a part of you is still there, you need to stop this.” His voice pleaded. 

Stiles, the Nogitsune, watched as the Sheriff approached slowly. 

The fact that his father was actually there hit Stiles like a ton of bricks. He had seen his father in the crowd of faces but hadn’t thought much of it. 

Who had told his dad? Derek? Scott? 

How long had he been gone that they had to resorted to telling his father? 

The feeling of dread and fear boiled in the pit of his stomach. If they told his father then they might be questioning their ability to save him. This could be it for him and they wanted his father to get a chance to say goodbye. 

Stiles was pretty sure if he had control of his body that he would be in the process of having a panic attack. 

Stiles couldn’t even bring himself to look at any of their faces. The Nogitsune studied his friends, of course it did, but Stiles did his best to ignore their expressions. Instead, he focused on his father. His father’s face, expressions, and voice. What if this was the last time Stiles got to see his father?

No. Stiles refused to let it end like this.

But what could he do?

Stiles thought back to a conversation he had with Scott in the early weeks of their friendships. Scott had tried to explain to Stiles about finding an anchor to ground himself so he could learn to control his shift better. Stiles applied the same logic to his current situation. If he wanted to take back control of his body, he needed to ground himself. He focused on his father. His father was the only family he had left, he had to be Stiles’ anchor.

“Son, if you can hear me, if you are still in there, please.” His father pulled a pair of handcuffs from his belt. “Put these on and come with me. We want to help you. You know we will.” 

Stiles could feel the Nogitsune inside of him, twitching with joy for the way things had developed out. He felt his features soften, and his natural twitch come back (his fingers tapping against his thigh). 

The Nogitsune was going to do it again; it was going to do the same thing it did to Lydia to his dad. 

The Oni lowered their weapons and took a step back before disappearing completely, and the Nogitsune bowed its head. A small sob escaped its lips and it raised its bare arms up enough to show submission. The Sheriff approached slowly, handcuffs at the ready. 

Stiles screamed until his voice became hoarse. No sound left his mouth. 

The cuffs were placed around his wrists and tightened just as a familiar voice echoed through the night. 

“No! Sheriff! It’s not Stiles! Get away from it!” Lydia emerged from the building, stumbling into the open and landing on her knees. “It’s not Stiles!” 

The Nogitsune lifted its head and smiled before breaking the cuffs off in one small movement. The Oni appeared in an instant. This time, however, the spirits surrounded the group that had come to Lydia and Stiles’ rescue. The Oni had their swords drawn and bodies standing at the fighting-ready waiting for the command.

“Kill them- no, better yet,” A nasty smiles stretched across Stiles-not-Stiles’ face, “just mortally wound them.” The Nogitsune ordered. “I want them to die slow.”

Stiles was pretty sure the Oni didn’t need a verbal order. The Nogitsune had just done it to toy with his friends. He wanted to scare them, to watch the color drain from their faces.  

The Oni attacked the group, and the pack, plus his father and the woman who he assumed was Kira’s mother, retaliated. Stiles watched in horror, unable to do anything, as his friends struggled against the supernatural beings. 

While the pack outnumbered the Oni, the Oni were better fighters. The Sheriff’s gun did nothing to dissuade them from their onslaught of attacks. A matter of seconds felt like minutes and the minutes felt like hours to Stiles. His friends groaned with exhaustion as they fought. 

One thing Stiles knew for sure was that his friends would eventually grow too tired to fight and the Oni would win by default. He would have to watch his friends and family die. 

Neither side really gaining or losing ground, the Oni switched tactics, teaming up to take out a target at a time. Two Oni cornered Isaac, driving him closer to a wall. Allison stood between Isaac and the wall, firing a barrage of arrows in an attempt to drive the Oni back and provide support. A blade sliced the front of Isaac’s chest, causing him to stumble forward. The second Oni attacked from behind, slicing at the tendons in the back of his legs and forcing Isaac to his knees. 

The Nogitsune smiled at the scene. Stiles could feel the pleasure and satisfaction it felt and felt disgusted at himself for beginning to enjoy the feeling of power the Nogitsune filled him with. 

Matt had enjoyed this; this had been what he wanted back. Stiles couldn’t help but think of his friend; the friend he had killed. Matt had been a loner, much like Stiles had been before he met the pack. Stiles could understand why Matt had been so obsessed with the power the Nogitsune provided. While Stiles felt suffocated by the inability to control his own body, the Nogitsune’s strength made each breath he took a little easier. As oxymoronic as that was, because Stiles did know that it made no sense on paper, it was the only way he could think of to describe it.  

Allison released arrow after arrow until one found it’s mark right in the center of an Oni’s chest. It’s sword fell to the ground and a yellow light protruded from its chest. The ground shook and the single Oni disappeared. 

The Nogitsune was no longer smiling. It pulled away from the car it had been leaning on as it watched the scene and locked eyes with Allison. Stiles could feel the order, could feel the rage the Nogitsune felt as it told one of the Oni to drive a sword through Allison’s chest. 

Stiles wasn’t going to let that happen he wouldn’t. What could he do though?

Stiles thought of the game of GO sitting upon the Nemeton. He thought of all the pieces the Nogitsune had sacrificed to gain ground and something clicked.

Stiles willed himself back to the board, ready with a play in mind. He didn’t know if it would work, but he had to try. So Stiles focused on what if felt like to be in the white room; he focused on his breathing.

His actual, physical, body blinked and Stiles found himself back in front of the game. A stone was already between his fingers, and Stiles placed the white stone in a location that completed the atari around a black stone. This move however did simultaneously sacrifice one of his own stones. 

At the start of the game, Stiles had been unwilling to sacrifice his stones. That had been his downfall. That was why the Nogitsune was winning. While Stiles was so busy protecting every piece on the board, he had left himself open. The Nogitsune had taken out the pieces he had failed to protect all because Stiles had stretched himself thin. 

Stiles felt the Nogitsune temporarily lose it’s power over him. It was a fleeting moment, but a moment nonetheless. 

The Oni missed, slicing the side of Allison’s arm rather than piercing through her chest. 

Stiles didn’t even have to physically be there to know what happened. He saw through the Nogitsune’s eyes just as it had seen through his. Stiles was learning. He had more control than he had initially thought.

The Nogitsune didn’t stick around, suddenly very disappointed in how the night had turned out. Stiles didn’t get the chance to see the look on his friends faces before the Nogitsune had taken off. He didn’t get a chance to check on his father. To check on Scott and Derek. 

Stiles didn’t know what would have happened if the Oni hadn’t missed. Allison might have died, and along with her, Isaac’s and Scott’s will. Stiles knew that Scott had moved on after Allison, but Stiles also knew that there would always be a place in Scott’s heart for her. 

Stiles was ready to make his next move on the board when the Nogitsune appeared before him. The creature yelled as it grabbed the front of Stiles’ shirt and tossed him across the room. Stiles landed, knocking his head against the ground, and was out like a light. 

Stiles woke up slowly and he opened his eyes hesitantly. He was expecting his head to hurt. It didn’t. He was also expecting to wake up in his bed. He didn’t. Stiles woke up on the cold white floor that was beginning to become a familiar sight. 

“Stiles…”

Stiles groaned. The thing was still here, waiting for him. Stiles pushed himself off the ground and turned to face the Nogitsune just in time to watch it place a piece on the board. 

“Why haven’t you won yet?” Stiles asked. “I was just unconscious for- however long. Why didn’t you win?” 

The Nogitsune didn’t answer him, instead the creature sat on the Nemeton staring him down. 

“Tell me.” Stiles demanded, stepping back toward the board. 

“Your turn.” 

“Tell me.” Stiles insisted. The longer he spent with the Nogitsune the less he actually understood. Why hadn’t the Nogitsune taken complete control if Stiles wasn’t there to stop him? Why hadn’t the chaotic creature already won? 

Stiles sat cross-legged on the Nemeton, a white piece in his hand ready to be played. 

The Nogitsune hissed in annoyance but responded. 

“We are connected. You and I. I cannot win if you are not here for me to beat.” 

Stiles turned the white piece over in his hand before placing it down on the board. The Nogitsune was quick to respond, placing a piece right where Stiles had expected it to. Stiles turned another one of his pieces over between his fingers.

He and the Nogitsune were connected on a conscious level. So whenever Stiles fell asleep the Nogitsune could take over. Stiles remembered his Psychology class discussing the impossibility of actual “unconsciousness” because that technically meant death. That didn’t change that fact that people would still always use the word. But one was always conscious, just sometimes one wasn’t aware of the outside world. So when Stiles slept, the Nogitsune was awake. If Stiles’ conscience was “unconscious,” the Nogitsune was as well. Stiles was somewhat comforted by the Nogitsune’s limited power. Only slightly. 

“You still think you stand a chance.” The Nogitsune drawled. 

“You haven’t won yet.” 

“No. Not yet.” 

Stiles placed another stone. 

“What is your master plan then? If you are so sure I can’t win against you then it shouldn’t matter if you tell me.” Stiles tried. 

The Nogitsune smiled before reaching up slowly towards the back of it’s bandaged head. Stiles sat up straighter and leaned back to create the illusion of distance between himself the monster before him. The Nogitsune pulled and part of the bandage came undone. Stiles watched, feeling both terrified and fascinated, as it unraveled the bandage. The small pile of discarded bandage continued to grow as the Nogitsune continued to unbury its face. 

Stiles wasn’t sure what he expected. Maybe something like the typical Kitsune aura or a heavily injured soldier. What he wasn’t expecting was to see himself. The Nogitsune dropped the rest of the bandage onto the ground and Stiles forgot to breathe. 

“What’s the matter, Stiles?” 

Stiles felt like he was staring at a mirror. The Nogitsune looked exactly like him. He knew the Nogitsune could possess a person’s physical form but he didn’t know the Nogitsune could become him in every way. 

“I told you, Stiles. This is my game.” The Nogitsune placed another black stone onto the board. 

Stiles’ fingers felt odd grasping the white stone and his hand shook as he placed his own stone. 

“You look tired, Stiles.” The Nogitsune cooed. “Maybe you should rest. We can pick this up later.” 

Stiles glared. He didn’t feel right. It was as if the moment the Nogitsune revealed its face, Stiles’ face, Stiles had lost his energy. He felt weak. Moving his arm to place a piece was taking more energy and effort than before. 

“How does it feel?” The Nogitsune placed another piece. “To feel so weak, to be unable to help your friends. You’re pathetic.”

“You won’t win.” Stiles managed. “I won’t let you.”

“Even if it kills you?” 

“Yes.”

The Nogitsune smiled. Stiles was beginning to hate his own smile. 

“Promise?” The Nogitsune asked as it completed an atari around a white stone. 


	34. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fear vibrated through Stiles. He didn’t want to die. Of course he didn’t. He wanted him friends and family to be safe. He wanted his pack to be safe.
> 
> He could feel the Nogitsune’s fear complimenting his own and two words popped into his mind.
> 
> Do it.
> 
> Do it, Stiles had thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry!! I've been so busy lately and haven't had the time to sit down and write. At least one more chapter after this one and then it's complete! I might do a couple one shots based off of this fic but we will see! This chapter is shorter and unbeta'd Sorry!! I hope you still enjoy it. Let me know what you think! <3

“I’ve been thinking…”

“Go away.”

“I feel like we aren’t bonding very well, Stiles.”

“Go to hell.” 

“And I feel like a part of it is because you have hope.” 

“Yeah.  I hope you will go away and leave me the hell alone.”

“Don’t worry though, I have a plan.” 

Stiles didn’t like the sound of that. Actually, he didn’t like the sound of anything coming out of the Nogitsune’s mouth. It was his voice, his personality, it was Stiles- but not Stiles. The longer he spent with the Nogitsune the more he started to hate himself. His hair was stupid, his smile was stupid, his voice was stupid. 

After the Nogitsune had peeled off the bandage it had begun to act more and more like Stiles. It’s voice and mannerisms, it’s sense of humor. 

Stiles had spent the last- however long, because he had no actual idea how much time had passed- staring at the lights on the ceiling. It was his turn to make a move. He was running out of options and decided it would be best to take some time to think it out. Had the Nogitsune actually left him alone, maybe Stiles would have been able to come up with something. Instead the creature had pestered him non stop. 

“How about we go for a walk?” 

Stiles turned to look at the Nogitsune. The trickster was sitting on the edge of the Nemeton watching him, it’s lips twitching up in a small smile. This was the first time it had suggested actually doing anything.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” 

“I wasn’t making a suggestion. It wasn’t a request. I was just trying to be polite about it.”

“Fuck off.” 

The Nogitsune clicked it’s tongue in disapproval.

There were a few moments that passed before the Nogitsune spoke again. 

“How do you think your father is doing right now?”

Stiles shot up into a sitting position at the mention of his father. The Nogitsune only smiled at the reaction. Stiles had done what it had expected him to. 

“How about your friend Scott?” The Nogitsune licked its lips. “How about Derek? Think he is doing okay?”

“If you hurt any of them…” 

“You’ll what? Tell me, Stiles. Do you know what happens when someone is sliced by an Oni blade?” 

“I don’t-”

“They die. A slow, painful death.” The Nogitsune enunciated each word. 

In turn, each word struck Stiles like a brick to the head.

Allison’s face instantly came to Stiles’ mind. He thought he had saved her. Instead he had just doomed her with a painfully slow death. 

“But they know how to kill the Oni now.” Stiles remembered. 

Allison had killed an Oni, she had to have figured it out then. She would tell the others and they would be able to stop the spirits. They just had to find the Oni first. 

“How about that walk now, Stiles? I have a feeling someone is going to die tonight.”

Stiles stood and brushed the nonexistent dirt off of himself. 

“Seeing as I don’t have a choice-”

“No. You don’t.”

“Mind telling me where we are going?”

“You’ll see.”

Stiles wanted to punch himself in the face, and by “himself” he actually meant the Nogitsune look-alike that was haunting his psyche. Stiles gestured for the Nogitsune to lead on. It was a brief moment where Stiles forgot that he didn’t have control over his physical-real-world body. He blinked, and they were somewhere else. Stiles was seeing through his own eyes but unable to control his body. He felt entirely trapped.

The Nogitsune was walking the streets of town, passing the one stop light the small town had, and heading toward Beacon Hills High. Stiles didn’t know where they were going and the Nogitsune had stopped replying to his constant barrage of questions so he had stopped asking them. 

The Nogitsune continued walking, it walked past the high school, past the parking lot filled with busses, and entered the line of trees that bordered the high school and the preserve. The Nogitsune navigated its way through the dark woods as if it were day. 

Stiles subconsciously knew he would end up back here sooner or later, although he had hoped later. This had been where is had really started. His eyes swept across the clearing and over the large, ancient tree stump sat at the center. This was where Scott, Lydia, and Derek had taken him. For all he knew, that could have been when he first interacted with the Nogitsune. He remembered what the stump had felt like beneath his fingers, he remembered the fireflies that had been flying nearby. He could remember the moment Lydia complained about the buzzing. He remembered the odd feeling that had settled in his gut right before they left. 

“Do you want to hear a story, Stiles?” It said as it seated itself on the stump of the Nemeton. 

His own voice reached his ears and it somehow sounded completely unfamiliar. 

“Do you know how you make a Kitsune? No. I suppose you don’t. It wasn’t written in that book of yours. You can get a Kitsune by one of three ways. Two Kitsune parents who love each other very much,” The voice dripped with sarcasm and annoyance. “A Kitsune soul possessing the body of an unborn child, or my personal favorite-” The Nogitsune wiggled his fingers in front of his face. “The sharing of a mortal and Kitsune soul.” 

Stiles’ mind went blank. Eventually a single thought formed. 

What?

The Nogitsune smiled. 

“Your friends can kill the Oni all they want.” On command, the Oni appeared, standing an equal distance apart from each other at the edge of the clearing. “You and I are one now, Stiles.” 

A howl in the distance grabbed both their attention. The Nogitsune frowned slightly but seemed rather unbothered by the alert. “They’re early.” It muttered. “Your move, Stiles. Make it a good one. You get to decide who we kill first.” 

Stiles pictured the GO board in front of him, could see where each piece was. He could feel the white stone in his hand as he imagined himself picking it up and moving it. A black stone appeared on the board almost instantly after he made his move. 

Stiles was so focused on the board that he missed the moment a group of shifted werewolves burst into the clearing. It was the delay in the Nogitsune’s move that alerted him of their presence. Stiles recognized Malia, Boyd, and Scott instantly. There were two wolves, a guy and a younger girl, that Stiles didn’t recognize though. 

Stiles could stop the hurt building up in his chest at the lack of Derek or his father. He felt worse for realizing that he had felt hurt by their lack of appearance. He scolded himself for his first thought not being about whether or not they were okay. 

Stiles felt the entire demeanor of the Nogitsune change when an older woman stepped into the clearing. The Nogitsune stood, no longer maintaining his laid back care-free attitude about the wolves fighting before him. This woman scared the Nogitsune and Stiles wanted to know why. 

An arrow entered the clearing, slamming against the raised sword of an Oni, alerting Stiles of Allison’s presence. She was okay, still alive. Although, Stiles suspected she was in pain and her aim was off. 

Two more figured entered behind her, Erica and Isaac. They rushed to join the aid of their friends, leaving the older woman standing there alone. 

Still no Derek. 

The Oni were outnumbered but still holding their own against the pack-plus-some. The pack weren’t fighters. Sure, someone of them had some training but against the Oni it was proving to be much more difficult than any training session they might of had before. 

The Nogitsune smirked and opened his arms wide, an open invitation for the older woman to attack. She growled at him, her claws extending from her nail beds, and approached. She lunged at him and Stiles-not-Stiles side-stepped her swipe. The older werewolf continued her onslaught of swipes, forcing the Nogitsune to move backward away from where the center of the fighting was occurring. The Nogitsune let her lead him away, Stiles was staring to figure out how the Nogitsune worked. It let its opponent think they were winning and had the upper hand before knocking them off their feet. 

The first time the Nogitsune let one of the woman’s fists connect with its forearm, it was testing her strength. Stiles could feel the force of the impact, could feel the pain it sent jarring into his system. She wasn’t throwing any of her punches. This woman was after blood. She wanted the Nogitsune dead. 

Stiles was suddenly afraid. There was someone here who would actually kill him. The thought frightened him. He didn’t want to die, not really. He had hoped Lydia and the pack would have figured it all out. 

Was that why Derek wasn’t here? Because the pack had voted to just kill Stiles and Derek felt guilty? No. Scott was here. Scott wouldn’t let them do that. Right?

The Nogitsune pushed back against the woman’s attack, sending her sliding back a few feet. The woman charged again, and the Nogitsune retaliated. Stiles could feel the blood dripping from the various cuts the woman left on his body.

Stiles placed another white stone on the board. 

The Nogitsune lost its footing a moment and the woman took advantage of it. She swiped at his legs causing him to fall backward onto the ground. She was ontop of him in an instant, her claws pressed against his neck, ready to slice through the flesh. 

Fear vibrated through Stiles. He didn’t want to die. Of course he didn’t. He wanted him friends and family to be safe. He wanted his pack to be safe. 

He could feel the Nogitsune’s fear complimenting his own and two words popped into his mind. 

Do it. 

Do it, Stiles had thought. 

He tried to mentally urge the older woman to do it, to slice his throat and end it. He decided he wanted them to take the chance if they had it. It was clear to him that the Nogitsune wouldn’t hold back, that the creature wanted all of Stiles’ friends dead. 

“Do it.” His voice challenged. He hated the Nogitsune for calling their bluff. His friends weren’t going to let anyone kill him. 

“Satomi! No! You can’t kill him!” Lydia’s voice echoed through the woods. He hadn’t known she was there.

Stiles could feel the way heads snapped in his direction and eyes locked on the way the woman - Satomi - had his body pinned to the ground. The fighting continued around him but the shouting distracted Satomi long enough for the Nogitsune to get his bearings and strength back enough to push the old werewolf a good distance off of his body and away from him. 

Stiles-not-Stiles scrambled to his feet, a wicked smile on his face. 

“If you aren’t going to kill me, then you might as well give up.” The creature wiped some blood from his face. “Because I’m going to kill all of you.” It snarled.

A roar echoed behind Stiles, and the next thing he knew his body was being propelled forward. There was a heavy weight on his back the whole way to the ground. The heavy weight remained there for a few seconds before the Nogitsune found his strength again. The body went flying back only to be stopped by an invisible wall. 

Stiles saw the circle of mountain ash surrounding him and the other person- the Nogitsune hadn’t looked long enough for Stiles to figure out who it was- trapping them inside. 

The Nogitsune growled and turned toward the only thing he could reach, the person trapped in there with him. The Nogitsune slammed the person against the wall and a steady stream of agonizing pain rushed through both bodies. It was then that Stiles realized that it was Derek that was trapped in there with him. 

Stiles felt his heart sink into his stomach. Derek had come. This had been their plan. Distract the Nogitsune enough to trap it. But Derek was trapped in here with him. 

Stiles could feel the Nogitsune feeding off this misery, trying to replenish its power.

Stiles-not-Stiles rammed Derek against the wall harder, trying to push through the wall by using Derek’s body as a tool. Derek howled and yelled in pain and, while his hands were wrapped around Stiles’ arm, he refused to dig his claws into Stiles’ skin. Even as Stiles’ body was killing him, Derek refused to hurt Stiles. 

What had he done to deserve to date this man? Stiles wondered. Then guilt and fear settled in his gut. Would they still be dating after this?

Stiles didn’t dwell on the thought too long. There was a sharp pain in his neck and he was beginning to feel woozy. Stiles knew the Nogitsune must have been feeling it too because the creature released Derek and stumbled backward. 

A person rushed from behind him and to Derek’s side. Stiles registered Allison’s brown waves instantly. He smiled proudly at her despite her inability to see it. It didn’t matter. They had figured it out. They had to have. The mountain ash barrier, Allison crossing it, whatever-the-hell she had injected him with; for the first time in a while, Stiles had hope. 

Stiles collapsed to his knees. It wasn’t the Nogitsune. He sucked in a breath of the night air, feeling the pain as it rushed into his lungs. He tightened his fingers into the dirt. A strangled laugh fell from his lips. He was himself again. 

“Stiles?”

Stiles recognized Lydia’s voice. It sounded so loud against the stark silence of the night. The Oni must have disappeared when the Nogitsune had disappeared. 

Stiles collapsed onto the ground, his face landing in the dirt and his eyes closing. He could feel the ache in his muscles, he could feel the cuts in his flesh from the fighting. He was exhausted and feeling like death. He couldn’t even find the strength to speak. 

Someone landed on their knees beside him, cautiously touching his shoulder in case the Nogitsune were to jump up and attack. Stiles couldn’t help the weak laugh. 

“Stiles?” Derek’s voice was throaty but gentle. 

Stiles wished he could respond, but he couldn’t. His mind was going dark. Must have been whatever Allison had injected him with.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave comments and kudos!! <3


	35. It's just us.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Close your eyes.”   
> Stiles did so without hesitation.  
> A tingling sensation chased around the nerves on Stiles’ hand as Derek lightly traced a symbol.   
> “Find an anchor. Something, someone to remind you of who you are, to remind you of your humanity. Really think about this. It has to be important to you.”  
> Derek continued to trace the symbol as Stiles thought.   
> Stiles thought of Derek. At least at first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY!! It has been forever since I posted. My finals were stressful, and I moved houses. I have gone the last 2.5 months without internet and couldn't find the motivation to finish the piece. I wanted to start the new year off without having to worry about this.   
> Here it is! the final chapter. YAY!!   
> Well. I hope it lives up to some of your expectations.   
> If I have left anything unexplained or anything let me know in the comments! I might write a bonus chapter to fix anything.   
> This chapter is not Beta'd, same with a couple of the last chapters. I've noticed some mistakes. Sorry about any more!  
> Thank you guys so much for sticking with me for this fic!! It is the longest piece I have ever written.   
> I'll consider writing a sequel for it next year, but no promises.   
> Let me know your thoughts!!   
> <3

Stiles was running through the woods late at night. Well, running as best he could with his injured leg. He ran from the creature wrapped in bandages as it chased him through the thick forestry. At least, he thought he was running. It felt like he was the one running, but it also felt like he was just a bystander watching the events unfold. The scenario felt oddly familiar. 

Stiles could feel himself waking up. He was suddenly aware of his own breathing and body but not quite able to move it or speak just yet. A noise off to his right caught his attention. It had sounded like someone taking steps toward him. 

“Stiles?” 

The voice seemed to be far away. Stiles attempted to roll his head to the side and open his eyes. It took a lot of his strength but he finally completed the meager task. His eyes fluttered open before closing against his wishes. 

Derek. 

Stiles tried to smile. They were both alive. 

Stiles was running through the woods again. This time the creature in bandages wasn’t there. It was the version of the creature with his own face. Stiles was being chased by himself. The Stiles-not-Stiles version of the Nogitsune chased him through the woods, taunting and shouting cruel words and threats. Stiles could feel the sweat dripping down his skin, sliding against the grime of the woods that already covered his body. 

His heart pounded against his chest cavity, his lungs struggling to get oxygen as fear filled his mind and heart. Stiles stumbled, tripping over a tree root and flew forward onto the ground. He crashed into an open clearing and slid, trying to force himself quickly to his feet. He wasn’t safe. The Nogitsune was still chasing him. 

A hand wrapped around his ankle and tugged him back with painful force. Stiles twisted in its grasp but found himself unable to escape it. The Nogitsune had him pinned, his back against the ground, with its hands around Stiles’ neck. Stiles choked and grabbed at the trickster’s wrists. Stiles knew there was a way to get out of this, his father had taught him so many techniques to get out of a choke hold and yet Stiles couldn’t think of a single one of them. 

The Nogitsune’s grip loosened for a moment and Stiles screamed. 

One moment he was lying on the ground, the Nogitsune lying on top of him, it’s hands wrapped around his throat and the next Stiles was launching himself forward. 

Stiles had been expecting some sort of resistance but found none. His eyes opened just as he fell off whatever it was that he was resting upon. The strong, warm arms that wrapped around him followed immediately after he found himself falling onto the floor, his legs weak and unable to support his own weight. Stiles was shaking and thoughts of the last few weeks came flooding into his mind. The tears came on their own. 

Hushed, carefully chosen words were whispered into his ear as Stiles cried. He could feel the stress that had been building up inside of himself deflate as his chest heaved and the tears fell. Stiles, after several attempts, came to terms with the fact that he couldn’t make the tears stop right now. So he cried. And Derek held him, the words never stopping. Even if Stiles didn’t know what the other man was saying, the words still provided Stiles with some comfort.

Stiles found himself in this same position in what couldn’t have been more than five hours later. This time, however, Derek had caught him before Stiles fell. The older man held Stiles tightly as he whispered phrases Stiles tried to convince himself to believe. 

You are safe. 

Everyone is fine. 

You are going to be fine. 

You are strong. You are brave. 

Stile was never conscious for more than a few moments at a time. Or at least he only remembered a few moments of each conscious minute. 

He woke once to see his father; Stiles didn’t know what was said or what had happened, he just knew he had woken up and seen his father and then Stiles was asleep again. Derek was always there. Stiles knew this. He was pretty sure Derek hadn’t really left him. 

Stiles pieced a few things together. He was in a private hospital room. He was recovering from a number of wounds inflicted upon him during the Nogitsune’s control. However, according to the bits and pieces of information he overheard through half-consciousness, he was healing much quicker than expected.

Scott’s mom was there. She was his main nurse. Stiles had heard her talking to Derek. She said something about Stiles’ recovery speed and how it worried her. Stiles was, after all, still very human. His body was under a tremendous amount of stress and whatever was going on wasn’t actually helping. Derek had said something in response, Stiles hadn’t really been able to focus too much on anything but the sound of Derek’s voice and the hand that lightly grasped Stiles’ arm. Stiles felt immediately light-headed and strangely comforted by the touch. 

This was the first time that Stiles was really aware of the fact that he was waking up. He could wiggle his fingers and toes and shift in the bed. A groan escaped his lips as he did so, his body stiff from the inactivity and healing. A hand touched his arm and Stiles eased his eyes open. He had to close them and reopen them a couple times before he could focus. The lights seemed to scream at him and he was uncomfortably cold. 

“Stiles. How you feeling, son?” 

Stiles’ chest clenched at the sound of his father’s voice.

“D-dad?” Stiles managed to croak out. He would have cried if it hadn’t been for the fact that he had already cried so much previously. The stress that had built up into tears was basically gone now. Instead, he was overwhelmed with relief. He knew his dad had been fine, had heard his father talking to him at some point; at least Stiles thought he remembered his father talking to him. The fear of losing his father had reminded him of when he lost his mom. 

The Sheriff turned to the bedside table for a moment before turning back to Stiles and handing his son a cup of water. Stiles nearly dropped the cup as he tried to take it from his father and instead of wearing the liquid, let his father help him drink it. 

Stiles let his father rant for a good half hour. He knew his father had been terrified, knew that he had lied to the only family he had, knew he had been reckless and inconsiderate. His father paced the room, waving his hands in a very similar manner to how Stiles moved about, as he spoke. 

“Dad.”

“I’m serious, Stiles. What you did- and I don’t mean the-the thing. I mean not coming to me and talking to me. I will always be here for you, always.”

“Dad.”

“I know things have been hard since your mother died. I know you have been struggling. I know I have been struggling. I made mistakes in the beginning but I thought we had moved passed it and were doing better. I know your mother would have trusted you and believed you, and I would have tried, Stiles. I would have done my best to try.”

“Dad!” 

The Sheriff's head snapped up from looking at the floor.

“I’m sorry. I fucked up. I screwed up big time and you got hurt. I’m so, so sorry.”

Stiles watched as his father’s face softened. 

Noah Stilinski approached him. 

“It wasn’t your fault, kid.”

“How do you know? I might have done something-”

“No. Stiles. Deaton walked me through it- sort of. I understood about half of it. I hope you can sit down and explain things further, maybe with the help of your friends. Speaking of which- think you are up for some visitors later?”

“Visitors?”

“You’re quite popular these days. They have been prowling the hospital like a pack of wolves waiting for you to wake up.”

Stiles opened and closed his mouth, unable to form a coherent thought in that moment. His father chuckled at his own joke and Stiles was happy to see he seemed to be taking things pretty well. 

“I’ll go get the doctor and we can see when we can get you out of here. Sound good?”

Stile nodded.

The pack was waiting for him. They had stuck around even when their mutual problem had been solved. Stiles couldn’t help the fear that had been building up inside of him over the pack and his relationship. It didn’t matter that he was dating Derek, he had still remained insecure about it. 

Stiles was still technically the outsider. The stranger who they befriended for information and then kidnapped in the middle of the night. He was the defenseless, breakable human that was possessed by a demon and manipulated into hurting them. 

Stiles could feel the heaviness building on his chest as his lungs constricted.

“Stiles?” Scott’s voice pulled Stiles away from the impending panic attack.  

Stiles let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and smiled at his guest. Scott’s face, the tilt of his eyes and the insecure smile, lit the dark recesses of his mind and chased away many of Stiles’ doubts of his relationship with Scott and the pack. 

Scott approached slowly. 

“My mom said it was okay for you to have visitors. The rest of the pack is here too, we just didn’t want to overwhelm you.” 

Stiles watched Scott play with his fingers awkwardly, as he contemplated a thought. Stiles could see in the way Scott was positioned that the other boy wanted to rush over and hug him. At this very moment, Stiles welcomed the idea. He had missed his friend. He had missed the feeling of home and family that Scott and the pack gave him when he was in their presence. 

Stiles opened his arms and gestured for the hug to ensure. Scott delivered, practically speeding to Stiles’ side and returning the hug with crushing vigor. Stiles could help the couple of tears that slipped down his face when he heard Scott try to smother a sob into his shoulder. 

Stiles and Scott sat together for a few minutes before, according to Erica as she charged into the room, the pack lost patience with the two of them. Erica came bouncing in, blonde curls and makeup perfectly done up. She practically pushed Scott aside before hugging Stiles. The hug was quickly followed by a slap on the arm and a scolding for worrying them. Stiles hadn’t known she cared that much about him. 

Boyd had followed in after her, a small wave was given, and then he was standing on the far side of the room watching the scene unfold. Isaac and Cora came in side by side. Isaac hesitated for a moment before giving Stiles a heartfelt hug. Cora didn’t hug him, that would be too unlike her, but she did walk over and glare at him for a moment. She clenched and unclenched her fists before settling on punching his arm and walking away. Stiles couldn’t help but smile. As far as he was concerned that was a sign of affection coming from her. 

Malia followed and launched herself at Stiles in a similar manner to Scott. She was much less careful with her strength, but Stiles didn’t mind so much. Everything hurt already, a little pain from a hug from someone he cared about didn’t bother him.

Derek and Lydia walked in last. Lydia made her way immediately to his side, pushing Scott completely off the bed and taking his place by Stiles’ side, hugging Stiles and placing a worried kiss on his forehead. She pushed his hair back and hugged him again. Stiles watched from the corner of his eye as Derek slid into the room and toward the back where Boyd was standing. Stiles didn’t like it. He didn’t like watching Derek try to hide from him. 

The insecurity filled Stiles with dread once again. This was it. This was Derek walking away from him. Was this the pack trying to comfort him before saying goodbye? The excuse that it was too dangerous for him, that they were worried about his safety? 

No.

Stiles wasn’t going to let this be the way things ended if they were going to end. 

Jackson and Peter weren’t there, probably for good reason. Jackson was probably still pissed about his Porsche and Peter, well Peter was just creepy and it was probably a good idea that he was nowhere near Stiles’ dad. 

Lydia snapped her fingers in front of Stiles’ face, pulling him from his inner turmoil. 

“Huh?”

“You okay, Stiles?”

“Yeah. Yeah, fine. Just thinking.” 

“Want to share your thoughts with the class?”

“Uhh. No.” 

Lydia rolled her eyes. 

“Stiles. How are you? Be honest, I don’t have to be a wearwolf to know when you are lying.”

“I’m okay, Lyds.” Stiles caught Derek’s eyes. “I’m fine.” He repeated the words that he heard Derek tell him. Derek’s eyes slid to the floor, breaking eye contact, but a small smile broke onto his lips lasting a moment before disappearing completely. 

Stiles bit his bottom lip. The question had been nagging at him. How had they done it? How had they saved him for a supernatural being possessing his body, mind, and soul?

“How?” Stiles finally managed to ask. 

The door opened, interrupting the answer to him question, and another man walked in. Stile recognized Deaton, and an unsettled feeling rose from his stomach. He felt nauseous.

Lydia glanced around the group before turning back to Stiles. His attention was drawn back to Lydia as she began to apologize.

“I couldn’t find anything. I’m sorry, Stiles. This was the only way we could figure out that didn’t involve killing you or waiting for the Nogitsune to take full control. I’m so sorry.”

Stiles didn’t know why she was apologizing so much. He was live, wasn’t he? 

Stiles groaned and tried to shift to a more comfortable position. A small weight on his chest shifted with him, grabbing his attention. Stiles’ hand found the small pendant hanging around his neck and lifted it high above his body so he could look at it. It was a small metal piece bent in the basic shape of a fox with no detailed features hanging on a leather string. He hadn’t noticed it before. He had been awake for hours and had not noticed the small pendant hanging around his neck. Fear spiked through Stiles. He could hear the sound of his own heartbeat pick up its pace. 

Stiles glanced from the pendent to the faces around the room, his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. 

“What is this?”

“We call it a Tsukumogami.” Kira spoke. Stiles had been so focused on Lydia and Deaton that he hadn’t realized she slipped into the room.

“A tsu-what?”

“A Tsukumogami. It is an object containing a spirit.” Kira replied slowly.

Stiles’ fingers stopped their movement, they had been rubbing the tiny object with interest before Kira spoke.

“The…” Stiles couldn’t finish his own sentence. Lydia’s earlier abundance of apologies were starting to make sense. 

“We bound part of the Nogitsune to the necklace. It was my mother’s. The object had to be at least one-hundred years old and that was the only thing she could think of.” 

“Part of it?” Stiles choked out.

“Stiles.” Deaton spoke from the back of the room. 

Stiles hated the sound of the man’s voice right now. It was like he was the bearer of bad news everytime he spoke. 

“The Nogitsune hadn’t separated itself from you. We weren’t sure he ever would. Your pack- your family didn’t want to take the risk. We could let the Nogitsune tear you apart from the inside, eating the misery and pain of others, or we could act.” 

Stiles glanced around the room at his friends. Scott, Isaac, Kira, Cora, Malia, Erica, Boyd, and Derek. None of them would meet his eyes except Derek. He was staring at Stiles, watching his reaction. Derek’s eyes flicked down to the necklace and Stiles realised he was fiddling with it again. Stiles removed his hand from the pendant and turned his attention back to Deaton. The man made him uncomfortable but he was currently telling Stiles what he wanted to know. 

Deaton continued. 

“The Nogitsune is still a part of you, but it can’t hurt anyone anymore. It’s consciousness is trapped in that necklace. While typically the object, as a Tsukumogami, would be capable of harmless mischievous acts, but because part of the Nogitsune is still inside of you, it can’t. You and the Nogitsune are tied together.”

Stiles took in the bits of information. Stiles gently touched the pendant before tightening his grip around the small fox pendant, the edges dug into his skin. He wanted to rip it off and toss it across the room. At least a part of him did; the part that was terrified of what this meant and what it made him. The other part craved the pendant to remain close, craved the power it held inside. 

“Stiles?” Malia’s usually loud and demanding voice felt quiet to his ears.

He licked his lips and gathered the courage to ask.

“How did you do it? Ya know- pull the thing out?” 

“With Kira’s help, we used an old japanese binding phrase and a little bit of lightning.” Deaton replied coolly. 

“A phrase? A single phrase?” 

Deaton shrugged and Stiles sighed. The Druid was as cruel as ever. Full of mystery and secrets and things Stiles was sure he would never know. 

Stiles sighed and leaned back against the hospital bed. It was uncomfortable and didn’t help to soothe Stiles’ anxiety. 

“Stiles?” Lydia’s voice was soft. 

“I just need a moment, just give me a moment.” Stiles did his best to sound unagitated but could tell it came off a bit snappy. 

“We did what we could, Stiles.” Her voice was soft and obviously afraid of how he would react. 

Was this why they were all here? Was this why they were still talking to him. Acting like they cared? He was still part Nogitsune. He was literally tied to the creature. Was their entire intention, the only reason they were around him, to keep an eye on him? 

Stiles took a deep breath. No. Maybe in the beginning, but not anymore. He trusted these people and he was sure they trusted him. They were basically family. Deaton had said “your family.” 

“Does my dad know?” Was the first question to come out of his mouth. He wasn’t talking about if his dad knew about werewolves. Stiles knew his dad knew that. When no answer came, Stiles lifted his head to look at his audience. He looked specifically to Lydia for an answer.

She shook her head. 

“No. But Stiles, I think you should tell him.” She rushed to say.

“Thank you.” Stiles ignored her comment. He wasn’t ready to have that talk with his dad. He was afraid of how his dad would look at him. “If you guys could refrain from telling him, I would appreciate it.”

He promised himself he would eventually tell his dad. He wanted to be sure he had this under control, that he understood the situation and could answer any and all questions his dad might ask. He would tell his dad. He would. Just not yet. 

“Stiles…” Scott started but stopped with the look Stiles gave him. 

“Please.” Stiles sort of asked, sort of demanded. 

Stiles looked at each individual in the room, waiting to receive a nod from each one before he moved on. Deaton kind of shrugged and looked like he didn’t care either way, which was probably true.

Derek was the last one he looked for acknowledgement from. Derek refused to meet his eyes. Stiles sighed. He needed to talk to Derek in private at some point today. Stiles made a mental note. 

“So what are the side effects?” Stiles decided to ask. “Do I get a cool glowing aura or some crazy shit that happens in pictures?”

“No.” Deaton’s voice filled Stiles with disappointment and worry. “Stiles, the Nogitsune can’t hurt or bother other people, but it can still affect you. It can try and persuade your decisions and actions.”

“Can it take over?” 

“No, not if you don’t let it.” So basically yes, it could. “The Nogitsune can only persuade you to help it or to use its power. It will be very convincing. You need to learn to control yourself and the part of the Nogitsune inside of you.” 

“The part inside of me?”

“The Nogitsune’s consciousness is in the pendant. A lot of its power still courses through you, you need to learn how to control this. Your emotions, your thoughts. These influence the Nogitsune’s power. If you were to get angry and lash out, without control there is no telling what would happen.” 

“Great. I’m basically an emotional time bomb.”

“We can help you learn control, Stiles.”

“Thanks. Scotty, but I’m not a werewolf.”

“I can help.” Kira chirped. “I’m Kitsune. I can show you how my mom taught me control. And you never know, learning control from a werewolf might help. While the technique might be different, the concept is still the same.” 

“Any other bad news I need to hear?” Stile tightened his hands on the hospital blanket draped over him. 

Scott raised his hand slightly. 

“Scotty.”

“Danny was looking for you. Apparently Matt gave him a job, and after Matt died, Danny told you about it. He was looking for you after practice, the day you disappeared, he wanted to give you something.” 

Stiles remember speaking to Danny about it. 

“He gave me a little thumb drive. He encrypted it some so I could see what was on it.” 

Scott frowned but revealed the little black device. 

Stiles reached out for it and Scott relinquished his hold on it. 

“I don’t want to go to him and ask him un-encrypt it but-”

“We need to know what is on there.” Lydia interrupted. 

Stiles turned the device over in his hand. 

“I’m gonna need my laptop.”

“Boyd and I can go get it.” Erica volunteered. She turned to look at Derek, who gave his nod of approval, before leaving the room with Boyd following close behind her. 

“You can open it?” Malia asked, her voice intrigued and skeptical and the same time. 

“Of course. Danny wouldn’t have given it to Scott in a form that I can’t unencrypt. It’ll be easy.” Stiles shifted on the bed and cringed at the painful movement. In an instant three of the five remaining werewolves moved forward. 

“I’m fine!” Stiles yelled quickly. “It’s barely anything. Nothing to warrant some werewolf super-healing-power stuff.”

Isaac, Scott, and Derek stepped back.  

“Well, the clinic isn’t going to run itself. Stiles, come to me if you need anything. If anything starts to happen, if the Nogitsune starts acting up, come to me. I might be able to find something to help.” Deaton said on his way out the door. 

“Thank you.” Stiles nodded. 

Kira, Lydia, Cora, Isaac, Scott, and Derek still stood in the room. 

No one spoke and Stiles didn’t know what to say. 

He settled on a simple “I’m sorry.” 

“Stiles…”

“I’m sorry for the crap I put you guys through. Thank you. All of you.”

Lydia launched herself at him again, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and burying her face in his neck. 

“Don’t you ever scare us like that again. I know it’s not official, but I consider you pack, Stiles.” 

“Me too.” Scott piped in. 

Stiles smiled. He felt like pack. 

Still hugging Lydia, Stiles moved his gaze to Derek. Derek was watching him, his facial expression locked. Stiles had gotten good at reading Derek’s eyes though, and Derek looked sad and almost confused. 

When Lydia finally let go, Stiles found the courage to ask a favor. 

“Is it alright if I have a few minutes alone with Derek?” Stiles asked. 

Stiles didn’t see Derek’s facial expression, but he caught how the older man straightened and brought his crossed arms closer to his chest. 

Lydia nodded, pat Stiles on the cheek, and chased everyone else out of the room. No one really protested, although Scott hesitated a bit at the door before leaving. 

Being alone in a room with Derek was still somewhat frightening but not for the same reasons. In the beginning, Stiles was afraid Derek would physically hurt him. Now, he was a little afraid of what Derek might say, that the older man might reject him. Stiles also  liked having all of Derek’s attention now, he didn’t feel that way in the beginning either.

“Hey.” Stiles broke the silence. 

“Hey, yourself.” Came the gruff response. 

Stiles couldn’t help but smile. 

“Thank you for saving my life. You put yourself at risk, you almost died.” 

Stiles expected the stereotypical “anyone would have done it” response but he was surprised by Derek’s answer. 

“You’re important to me.”

Stiles’ heart nearly stopped. He wasn’t expecting that kind of confession from Derek. 

“Derek-”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t destroy the Nogitsune, Stiles. I’m sorry you even had to go through any of this.” Derek’s defensive stance broke and he took a hesitant step toward Stiles.

“It’s not your fault, Derek.”

Derek closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened his eyes again. 

“I will do anything to help in anyway I can.” 

“Thank you.” Stiles watched Derek for a moment. The man looked exhausted but also relieved. 

They were silent for a moment. Derek looked as if to be contemplating how to say something. He opened and closed his mouth once before speaking.

“Lydia said something, she said she considered you pack. Scott does too. I know for sure that everyone does. I consider you pack too, Stiles. I was afraid before, of what being a part of the pack would do to you. I want to make it official, I want you to join the pack.”

Stiles’ lips crept up in a smile. 

“That would make you my Alpha.”

“It would.” Derek nodded.

“I don’t listen very well to orders.” 

“Be my Emissary then, not a Beta.” 

Stiles remembered his conversation with Deaton. The man had said it took certain qualities to be an emissary. Had he spoken to Derek about it? Did Derek see those qualities in Stiles? Was he just offering the position without considering whether or not Stiles was qualified? Stiles also remembered when Deaton called him a beacon for the supernatural. Was it instinct for Derek?

“I have no training.” Stiles settled on. It was true. He knew nothing about the position or how it actually worked. 

“So you will learn while learning to control the Nogitsune.” Derek was quick to answer. He seemed almost excited about the prospect of having Stiles as his emissary. 

“Are you sure? What if I go all Nogitsune on the pack again?”

“You won’t. I trust you, Stiles.”

Stiles would full on grinning now. 

“So, is that a yes?” Derek raised his eyebrows in question. 

“Sure, Sourwolf. I’ll be your pack Emissary.”  

Derek’s shoulders sagged in relief, as if he actually believed Stiles would say no. As if Stiles would actually reject him and the pack.

Honestly, Stiles wasn’t really sure what he was signing up for, but he knew he wanted to be an official member of the pack. Derek had offered, and Derek had actually given him a position and title. Stiles was willing to do anything it took to make sure he fulfilled the role. He would be the best damn Emissary the Hale pack had ever had. 

Now that that was settled.

“And what about us?” Stiles asked. This question had been the bane of his existence. It haunted his sleep and hours awake. 

“That’s up to you.” Derek physically tensed again, once again like he was waiting for Stiles’ rejection. 

“I like you, Derek.”

The grin that lit Derek’s face made the feelings of doubt disappear.

“I like you, Stiles.” 

Stiles was pretty sure Derek was going to kiss him. He was definitely sure he wanted Derek to kiss him. 

Derek didn’t kiss him, but Stiles was sure that they were both disappointed by this. Derek seemed to be restraining himself, he was prodding his arm with one clawed finger and keeping a rather professional distance between the two of them. Stiles could sort of understand what the older man was doing. He was giving Stiles time and space to recover, giving Stiles time to change his mind. 

“Derek.”

Derek hummed in response. 

“Can you come closer?”

Derek hesitated but complied. Stiles gave the space beside him on the bed a pat and urged Derek to take a seat. Derek didn’t hesitate this time. The Alpha werewolf sat at Stiles’ side, his body turned away from Stile and pointing at the door. 

“Can I borrow your hand?”

Derek offered his hand and Stiles took it with a satisfied smile. The smile lasted for all of three seconds. When black lines appeared on Derek, leaching the pain from Stiles, Stiles sighed. 

“Stop that.”

“You’re hurt.” 

“I just want to hold your hand.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” 

The black lines stopped. 

“You shouldn’t lie about the amount of pain you’re in, Stiles.”

“It’s not that bad, Derek.” 

The two of them fell silent. What was left to say? Stiles couldn’t help the smile that grew on his lips. Derek liked him and wanted him around. Stiles was an almost-official member of the pack. 

Stiles slid his eyes over Derek’s face. The man was sculpted to perfection, the wave of his hair, the bright sparkle in his eyes, the scruff of his beard, the sharp jawline, his lips… 

Derek chuckled. 

Stiles’ eyes snapped up.

“What?” Stiles asked incredulously, like Derek hadn’t been thinking about the same thing. 

Stiles watched Derek’s eyes flick to his lips for a moment. 

“Scared I’ll bite now that I’m partially possessed by a fox spirit?” Stiles could stop the words from coming out of his mouth. There was no anger, no spite, just a small joke about his predicament. His dark humor was back. A good sign. He hoped Derek saw it that way.

Derek rolled his eyes and growled.

Next thing Stiles knew, Derek was kissing him. It wasn’t rough, the the pressure on his lips was there. Stiles returned the favor. 

Stiles gripped the middle of Derek’s shirt as they kissed. Derek’s hand had made it to the side of Stiles’ face and Stiles savored the feeling of the other man’s lips on his own. 

Stiles was pretty sure he could kiss Derek for hours.

The moment was gone too soon and Derek pulled away. He didn’t move away, his forehead rested against Stiles’. 

“I’m glad you are yourself again.” Derek nearly whispered. 

“Yeah?”

“Don’t be an asshole.”

“I’m glad too.” 

Stiles wanted to stay like this, just the two of them for a while longer, but Derek was up and off the bed just as the door opened. Stiles sighed. It hurt, just a bit, but he didn’t doubt Derek’s affection toward him. Derek had his issues, his things, and Stiles would respect it. For now. 

Melissa came into the room with Scott right on her heels. 

“How are we feeling?” She asked as she walked over to his side. 

“Better.” He answered. 

“Scale of one-to-ten, ten being complete agony and one being Scott stepping on your foot.” 

“Hey!” Scott protested. 

“Four.” Stile said with a smile. He liked Melissa. Scott had a great mom. 

“Alright. That’s better than before. You are still going to need to get some rest, your body is still healing.” 

“Mom.” Scott said, grabbing her attention. “We have to finish some pack business.” 

Melissa looked between Scott and Stiles, her face soft with concern and worry. 

“I’m sorry you got dragged into this, Stiles.”

Stiles didn’t know what to say to her so he just gave her a short nod.

Melissa sighed before turning to Derek. She pointed an accusatory finger at him. 

“He needs sleep. You have two hours to finish any pack business. Then I want you all gone. I’m tired of seeing you all in the hospital all the time.”

Derek nodded and Melissa left the room. She gave Stiles a soft squeeze on the arm on her way out. 

Everyone was back in Stiles’ hospital room watching as he typed away on his laptop. They gathered around him. Derek standing on one side while Lydia claimed the other. Everyone else gathered around close while keeping some distance so Stiles could breathe without feeling overly claustrophobic. 

Lydia was curled up on the hospital bed with him, she had forced him to move over despite the fact that there had been barely any room on the bed as it was. She made it work and watched him as he worked. He inserted the device and waited. The decryption was a breeze, a simple set of algorithms Danny had walked him through before, and Stiles had access to the whole file. There were a number of photos followed by a coupled video files. Most of the images were dark, it was hard to see much without opening them completely. Lydia leaned closed as he opened the first image. 

The first image was of the moon; the image was zoomed in and displaying the entirety of the full moon. The next image was of a house. Lydia tighten a hand around the sleeve of Stiles’ hospital gown. He paused to check on her. 

“Keep going.” She instructed, and he did. The rest of the room, unable to see exactly what was on screen seemed more interested in the contents after Lydia’s reaction. The third and fourth image were of a person sleeping in bed. It took Stiles a few moments, but after continuing to scroll he realized what was going on. The person in the images shifted, laterally shifted as the images progressed. Matt had taken images of someone shifting. The images lead into a video. Stiles hit play and watched. It was taken in the same room as the images. The video was of a slightly better quality. Stiles recognized the person almost immediately now. It was Jackson. 

Lydia’s grip tightened but Stiles continued. The sound on his laptop played, and Stiles watched as the bones in Jackson’s body broke and shifted and Jackson struggled in pain. The video ended abruptly with a lizard person knocking the camera over. Stiles was sure Jackson was a werewolf now, so what the hell was that?

The next images were of a party out in the woods. Stiles frowned at the images, they looked familiar. The video that followed had Stiles’ heart racing. It was the same video that Danny had asked him to recover. The woods, the bonfire, the drunk kids, the howl. It was all the same. This time though, Stiles continued to watch the video. Some bushes rustled and the camera spun. Stiles didn’t catch anything odd in the video, but the next image was a still from the video. It was a still of the moment the bushes rustled. A pair of beady red eyes stared into the camera. 

“Peter.” Lydia whispered. 

“What?” Stiles asked. He knew for sure that only alpha werewolves had red eyes, and Derek was the alpha.

“He was an alpha once, before Derek.” She answered slowly. 

“A story for another time.” Derek interjected before Stiles could ask another question. 

Stiles continued through the photos. Some were of nothing, others were upsetting. A couple were of members of the pack in various compromising situations. They were fighting another pack of werewolves in a few. Stiles made a mental note to ask about that later. Derek’s tone had been enough to discourage him from asking at the moment. 

There were pictures of Stiles sitting in the library, pictures of him with Scott and Jackson on the lacrosse field. Stiles felt sick to his stomach. Matt had invaded his privacy. Matt had invaded all of their privacy. 

Stiles clicked on the last video. The still was of Matt. He had the camera pointed to him like that of a vlog. Stiles hit play. Matt shifted back a bit away from the camera before speaking. 

_ “If you’re watching this, I’m probably dead. Stiles, I’m sorry.” _

Stiles’ heart nearly stopped. This was for him. For the first time, Stiles felt pure hatred for Matt. 

_ “It was supposed to be me. Not you.”  _ Matt was obviously angry, but also afraid.  _ “I just wanted them to pay for what they did. I’m sure your new werewolf pal Isaac has told you about it… At least that’s what it started as. I finally felt powerful enough to make them pay for what they did, but I fucked up. Stiles, it wants you now and I can’t let that happen. I’m sorry. If you’re watching this, it’s because I failed to kill you.” _

Stiled didn’t want to watch the video anymore. Matt had been his friend. They hadn’t been close, but Stiles had made the effort, even when Matt seemed distant, to connect at school and clubs. 

_ “Stiles, I need you to do me a favor. I need you to finish what I started. Lahey had to pay for what he and his family did. They all need to pay. The pack-”  _ Matt spit out the word in anger.  _ They stood by and did nothing. They refused to help.” _

“He must had asked Peter to bite him.” Lydia whispered as the video continued to play. “He asked Peter for power, and Peter rejected him. This is why he is mad at the rest of the pack.” 

_ “They abuse the little guys, Stiles. They are going to disappoint you and you’ll finally understand what I mean. They are monster’s Stiles, and now you’re one of them. The Nogitsune won't stop until it consumes you. Make a deal, Stiles.” _

Stiles stopped the video and pushed his laptop away. He couldn’t listen anymore. He leaned back against the raised bed and closed his eyes. The video didn’t explain much, but it hurt to listen to. 

“Stiles?” Scott’s voice was sad. 

Someone shushed Scott. Stiles didn’t open his eyes to check. He was angry at Matt. He was angry at himself. 

“Let’s call it a night. Everyone, head home.” 

Stiles listened to Derek chase everyone out of the room. He asked Lydia to take the laptop; Stiles let her. Soon it was only the two of them. 

“Stiles?”

“Where did I go wrong?” Stiles asked. “How did any of this happen?”

Stiles opened his eyes and searched for Derek. The older man was tense and staring at the floor. 

“Don’t do that.” Stiles commanded. 

Derek looked up and opened his mouth. 

“You know what.” Stiles answered before he could ask the predictable question. “Don’t close off and prepare for rejection. That’s not what-” Stiles took a breath. “The video changes nothing. I said what I said earlier and I meant it all.”

“You’re not like Matt, Stiles.” 

Derek’s words confused him for a moment. Derek was trying to comfort him, reassure Stiles that he was in control. 

“I think I know that,” Stiles started. “But I’m afraid that I could become him.” Stiles admitted. 

Derek nodded and moved toward Stiles. He sat on the edge of the bed and held out his hand for Stiles’. Stiles held out his hands and Derek took one. 

“Close your eyes.” 

Stiles did so without hesitation.

A tingling sensation chased around the nerves on Stiles’ hand as Derek lightly traced a symbol. 

“Find an anchor. Something, someone to remind you of who you are, to remind you of your humanity. Really think about this. It has to be important to you.”

Derek continued to trace the symbol as Stiles thought. 

Stiles thought of Derek. At least at first. Derek had helped him through a lot, but something inside told Stiles that Derek wasn’t his anchor. Stiles thought of his jeep. As he did, his mother’s laugh, at least what he thought sounded like her laugh, echoed in his ears. 

“Find it?”

Stiles nodded. He did. Of course it was his mother. The jeep had been hers, and while it could have easily been his anchor it could also be wrecked and ruined. The memory of his mother was much more reliable. 

“Good. The symbol I’m tracing on your hand is the triskelion. It’s my family, my pack symbol.” Derek’s voice soothed Stiles.

A shiver ran down Stiles’ spine. 

“When you are feeling lost, think of your anchor, close your eyes, and trace the symbol. Okay?”

Stiles nodded and Derek released his hand. Stiles was a bit disappointed. 

Stiles opened his eyes.

“Your first lesson in control.” Derek said with a sad smile.

“Is that how they all learn?”

Derek shrugged. 

“They focus on their anchor. Drawing the triskelion on the palm was something my mother taught me. I haven’t shown anyone else since Cora.” 

“Thank you.” 

Stiles was released from the hospital a day later almost completely good as new. He was still traumatized, mentally and emotionally, but physically he was fine. His father had suggested seeing a therapist but Stiles made the argument that they would write him off as crazy as soon as he mentioned werewolves or getting possessed by a fox demon. 

The necklace still remained safely wrapped around Stiles’ neck, tucked under his shirt and hidden from sight. His father had seen it and asked about it; Stiles had said it was a charm of Japanese origin. That was all he could manage to tell his dad at the moment. 

Stiles has in contact with the rest of the pack constantly up until he got home, then radio silence. He hadn’t heard anything from Derek since the night in the hospital when they watched the video. He was sure Derek was sulking somewhere in a dark corner trying to give Stiles space. Right now however, Stiles wasn’t having any of that. He let his father micromanage his every more for a full day before he couldn’t take it anymore. He borrowed his father’s car and headed straight for Derek’s loft. 

Stiles wasn’t quiet, there was no point in being quiet. Derek with his werewolf hearing could probably hear him from six miles away. Stiles let himself into the building using the key he found in his hospital room the morning of his release. He had asked Scott about it and Scott told him Derek had left it. So Stiles put the key to use and let himself in. He took the elevator up to the loft. As he stepped out, Stiles stopped midstep. Derek was waiting for him, leaning casually on the side of his door frame. 

“Hey stranger.” Stiles spoke. He did his best to hide his excitement at the sight of Derek waiting for him. 

“You look good.” Came Derek’s response. 

Stiles grinned wickedly. 

“You gonna keep me standing out here all day or you going to invite me in?” 

Derek raised an eyebrow but pushed off the door frame and turned to go into his loft. He gave Stiles permission with a small head jerk; a command to follow. 

Stiles followed.

Derek led Stiles into the living room and positioned himself on the end of the couch, leaning on the arm. 

Stiles couldn’t help but stare and admire the specimen before him. Derek looked amazing in sweats and a black tee; although Stiles was sure he looked amazing in everything he wore. 

“You're staring.”

“It's hard not to. Can you blame me?”

Derek chuckled. 

Stiles love that sound. 

“It’s late, Stiles. What are you doing here?”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“It would have been awkward if you had.” 

Stiles took a step closer and looked around the loft.

“It’s just us.” Derek answered the unspoken question. “You didn’t answer the question, Stiles.” 

“Do I need a reason to come see you randomly in the middle of the night?” Stiles paused to think over his choice of words. “You have me on radio silence.”

“I was-”

“Giving me space, yeah, yeah. Well, I don’t need anymore space, Derek. You give me anymore space and I’ll be on an island on my own.”

“Sorry.”

Stiles changed the subject. 

“How do I join the pack, like officially?”

Derek hesitated. Stiles had probably surprised him. Stiles wondered what answer Derek had been expecting. 

“You know about our sense, pack hierarchy, and everything like that?” Derek finally spoke.

Stiles nodded.

“Did you ever come across anything about new members joining a pack?”

Stiles shook his head. He didn’t like to admit it but he didn’t know as much as he would like to about werewolves and their habits.

“Obviously we have accepted you into the pack, we trust you.” Derek paused. Stiles figured it was because he was trying to figure out how to explain it to him. Stiles waited patiently for Derek to continue.

“You reek- Before you start just shut up and listen.” Stiles had been about to declare himself very clean, having taken a shower that morning. His mouth shut at Derek’s command. Derek switched the conversation in a different direction.

“Our wolves are a part of us. We are one being. While our human side may not care what you smell like, our wolves do. You don’t smell like pack. You smell like strangers and…” Derek hesitated, “enemy.”

Stiles nodded his understanding, although he was a bit hurt by the information. Smelling like an enemy to the people he care about hurt.

“So how do we fix that?” 

Derek seemed to squirm under the question which made Stiles internally smile. Derek was always brooding and always serious and composed, so watching him become uncomfortable made Stiles a bit uncomfortable. Stiles watched Derek drag his large, strong hands down his face. The older man was embarrassed.

“Scenting.” The answer came out as a sigh.

“Scenting?”

“Scenting.” Derek repeated. 

“What does that entail?” Stiles raised his eyebrows in response to Derek’s. 

“Don’t spasm and accidentally smack me, okay?” Derek was approaching Stiles with his hands raised in surrender. Derek was teasing him and it lightened Stiles’ mood.

Stiles was still a bit nervous. He and Derek were dating, but that didn’t stop his heart from racing. The fact that they had kissed didn’t stop Stiles from getting butterflies in his chest. 

Derek got closer and Stiles couldn’t take the suspense of the situation.

“I’m going to touch you, is that okay?” 

Stiles met Derek’s eyes. The Alpha werewolf was confident and calm which gave Stiles some confidence. Derek wanted Stiles here, wanted Stiles in the pack. 

Derek kept one hand in the air and placed the other on Stiles’ chin, tipping his head to the side until Stiles was baring his neck. Stiles tensed under Derek’s grasp. 

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to bite you.” Derek’s voice huffed. 

Stiles didn’t say anything. That wasn’t why he had tensed, although he was sure the werewolf could smell the real reason on him. His skin was hot under Derek’s touch. 

Derek leaned toward Stiles’ neck and pressed his face against Stiles’ skin. 

There was a warm feeling in Stiles’ stomach. Derek was so close, his hands were itching to reach out and touch him. Stiles didn’t know what to do with his hands.

“Stiles, stop being so tense.”

“Sorry.” Stiles shifted his weight from one foot to another before he realized what he was doing and stopped. He apologized again.

Derek sighed into Stiles’ neck. The hot hair against his neck made Stiles shiver in pleasure of the feeling. 

“I’m going to put my hand on your hip, okay?”

Stiles nodded again. He wished he knew what to do with his own hands. 

Derek’s hand landed gently in Stiles’ hip and he continued to nuzzle Stiles’ neck, occasionally his beard tickled Stiles. Stiles suppressed a laugh. What kind of situation was this?

Derek placed a small kiss on Stiles’ neck and Stiles leaned his head over with it. 

“I’m going to do the other side, okay?” 

“Yeah.”

Stiles finally managed a word. He was trying to keep his hands to himself and his breathing steady at the same time. He was sure that Derek could smell Stiles’ arousal. He was grateful that the werewolf didn’t say anything if he did, or hoped that the werewolf was also aroused. Sue him. Partners were supposed enjoy each other's touch, right? 

Derek moved slowly. It ate away at Stiles’ self control but he let Derek nuzzle the other side of his neck without interruption. He placed another kiss on the side of Stiles’ neck and Stiles wanted to melt. 

When Derek was done, the olderman pulled Stiles into a hug. Stiles snuggled happily to the taller man’s chest, happy to have his hands do something other than rest at his side. 

Stiles waited for his brain to catch up with everything. 

“Wait. What does thing have to do with pack hierarchy?” In an instant Stiles was back to himself. Derek had asked if he understood pack hierarchy, but what did that have to do with scenting. 

Stiles pulled away, just enough to look at Derek as the werewolf answered, but not far enough to leave the embrace. 

“If an Alpha doesn’t accept the new member of the pack, the rest of the pack can’t officially, and the new member of the pack becomes an omega.” Derek answered simply.

“I see. Wait. Are they going to scent me too?” Stiles didn’t know how he felt about a bunch of werewolves rubbing themselves on him, especially near his neck. Derek was one thing, Scott was another. 

“Probably. Scenting isn’t sexual, at least not always.” 

Stiles shifted. He accepted the new information. 

“So I smell more like pack?”

Derek buried his face in Stiles’ neck. Stiles wiggled at the sensation. Derek took a deep breath and the warm air hit Stiles’ exposed skin. 

“A lot more.”

This made Stiles smile. It was odd. Scent wasn’t something completely important to him. Hygiene was, of course, but scent, smelling like the rest of them was different. He was sure anyone outside of the pack would find it strange, off-putting even. To Stiles, it was somewhat comforting, especially because it comforted the pack. 

“Stay the night?” Derek asked as he pulled away from Stiles. 

Stiles was hit with just how much warmth Derek’s body had been providing him. 

“Definitely.” 


End file.
